


A Warden Legend

by the_phantomime



Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age: Origins
Genre: Adventure & Romance, Angst and Tragedy, Comedy, Dark Comedy, Drama & Romance, F/M, Gen, M/M, Multiple Wardens (Dragon Age), Psychological Drama
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-20
Updated: 2018-10-18
Packaged: 2019-02-17 10:10:45
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 116
Words: 213,742
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13074672
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/the_phantomime/pseuds/the_phantomime
Summary: You have a Blight to stop. No money, no allies. No problem. Just stick the Archdemon with the pointy end.Another all-Origins-are-true story. Though if you are tired of seeing this sort of thing, close your eyes for ten seconds then open them. That helps with the tiredness.





	1. Chapter 1

In a little hovel in Dust Town, a poor district in Orzammar, the city of Dwarves, there lived a dwarf who wrestled with a bar stool. The bar stool won.

"Really? Do you really have to be in another barfight?" said a pretty dwarf woman who was tending to the bruise on the dwarf's eye. Brosca pushed her hands away to tend to them himself. After a moment, he said, "I'm sorry ye got a nug for a brodder."

She snorted. "Nug? You're more like a bronto."

"See? Nugbrain," he said, tapping his head. She started to smile, when a harsh, guttural voice barked from somewhere in that gloomy house. "Rica! I hear yer brodder! Is he there?"

"Right here, ye madwoman!" called Brosca. A disheveled looking woman emerged from a dank room. "Ye foolish boy. Don't ye talk to yer mother like that. Ye think ye uppity now like dem nobles, runnin with dem Carta? Well, boy, if ye had any gratitude in ye, ye respect yer mother cos if she ain't, you ain't-"

He tossed a coin which his mother deftly caught. "Go buy yerself a soddin drink and leave me alone." His mother scolded some more, but clutching the coin tightly in her hand, she put on her coat and eventually left for the nearest tavern. After the door slammed shut, Rica looked at her brother. "Must you? She-"

"Ah, donna start now. I'va only got rid of the naggin." She settled on looking exasperated at him.

"Look I make it up to ye. We gonna pay the rent and the debt. But you gotta give yer brodder more time."

His sister lowered her eyes. "I was going to talk to you about that." He looked at his sister more closely, alarmed at the way she looks. As if she was guilty. "What? What have ye not been tellin me?"

She kept quiet for a long time, but before she could speak the door flung open.

"Atrast vala, idiots!"

The siblings shot out of their chairs and stared at the newcomer. It was a dark haired, hard faced dwarf, strolling in their home as if he belonged.

"This isna yer house, Beraht." Brosca said, eyeing the visitor warily.

"But it is my house. I own this house. I own that filthy rag over there, I own that ratty chair, I own everything that is yours," he said, pointing at each object. Then he looked at Rica. "And I own her."

"What're ye talkin about?"

"Interesting. You see, I've met your mother back there. Charming woman. But have you never thought that her daughter will end up like her mother? Only luckier, I hope."

"What? Rica, what's he natterin about?" he asked her, very surprised and feeling a little dread creeping up. She stammered and said, "Brother I….I have accepted Beraht's offer to be noble hunter."

"What?! When?"

"Months ago."

Beraht started chuckling. " _Accepted my offer_? Haha Rica, you were always my favorite. If I put my money on who gets foaling first, it'd be you. You're halfway noble already, the way you speak. Not riffraff like the others. Although-" Beraht picked up a lock of Rica's hair at the front and flicked it over her shoulder to get a better view of her chest, "I can't keep gambling on you forever precious. You've got a sweet look, something to light a man on fire. But you've got to make it count."

Rica slapped the hand and backed away. "Can we not talk about this in front of my brother?"

"Why not? He knows the slope of the land, don't you, boy," he answered, turning to Brosca with narrowed eyes. 

"Donna talk like that to me sister," he growled. Beraht was not fazed. "You've told me a lot of things, not one of which meant more than a fart in the middens. Before me, your sister is another duster. Now check her out," he told him, showing her off as if she was a prize nug. "Every man's dream. All she gotta do is find a lord, squeeze out some kid who looks like him, and we're all living the easy life in the Diamond Quarter."

Rica turned to him, looking desperate. "Please don't get involved. You know it never ends well," she pleaded to her brother, who was looking like he was about to strangle Beraht. "He ain't got right to treat ye that way," he told her.

"I'll keep treating her however I like as long as you both eat off my plate," he reminded them. "You keep your head down and say "Aye" to any job I give you. In return, I put up some coin and get a bellyful of some nobleman's brat. Then you go both free. Then I get to join the family and called my lord for the rest of the little prince's life."

"And what? That prince gonna call you uncle and visit on name-days?" he spat at Beraht.

Beraht laughed a mirthless laugh. "That's what everyone likes- a casteless with a big mouth. But I didn't come to chat. I've been looking at my investments and this one hasn't borne gold. If you haven't got a patron-" he looked at her with those hard, mean eyes, "you're back to sweeping the streets."

Rica paled. "But I have..met someone. I didn't want to promise but he seems interested."

"Geroff her! It's me ye want, right? Ye hava job for me?" Brosca asked, angling himself in front of his sister. 

"Your buddy Leske outside will tell you. Don't even think about bungling it." Beraht glared at Brosca. "You're all on loose sand with me right now and I know you've got nowhere else to turn," he warned and with a final leer at Rica, he went out leisurely, slamming the door.

When their visitor was gone, Rica turned to him. "I'm sorry, brother," she said.

"Why did ye na tell me? And why did ye do it? I told ye I'm gonna-"

"You always say that but everytime, you either get yourself so drunk you're gone for days or start a fight or Mother gets so drunk she starts a fight and I have to pay everyone so they wouldn't beat her to death. What am I supposed to do? Sit at home? We can't keep going like this." She sat in a chair and put her head in her hands. Brosca hesitated, unsure of what to say, so he decided to place a comforting hand on her back. "I'm sorry. Shite. I shoulda been better." He cursed himself for placing his sister at Beraht's reach, as his mercenary. Aye, he had heard of Beraht's trade. He knew girls wanting to be noble hunters were told to show their…skills. With Rica's beauty and educated-like speech and manner, he knew Beraht would snap her up quickly. He used to jeer at her accent and her love of refinement, saying she's ashamed of her roots and her family by aping a noble and reading all those books she picked up in the bins. But when she cried, he softened and gave way. Now, he wished he should have made her cry harder if it meant keeping her away from Beraht.

"So why is he naggin you?" he asked, gentle now. She told him about two of Berath's girls getting presents at Harrowmont's reception. That inspired the cave-tick to put pressure on her. "Ye say ye gotta man."

"I didn't exactly got him. That is-I hope-he certainly seems charming. He treats me like a real lady, not just someone to tumble and forget."

Sodding Stone. His sister looked in love. That's the worst thing to be in for a noble hunter. She should be coolly following her interest, not mooning about someone.

"Who's he?" he asked, resentment building on this unseen stranger.

She smiled, amused at his tone. "I'll tell you later. In case I'm wrong. It's just so….crazy that one of the most important men in Orzammar would be interested in me. Anyway, time is rusting and you have a job to do." She stood up. "I should probably get dressed."

"Dressed? Yer goin out?"

"You heard Beraht. Don't worry I'll be fine. Now go," she patted his shoulder and smiled at him, assuring him that she'll be fine.

He looked at his sister, cursing himself for not being the best brother to the only person he loved most.


	2. Chapter 2

“My lady, wait!”

Elissa Cousland, the daughter of Bryce Cousland, Teryn of Highever, is a pretty, fair haired girl with dark eyes, a fine complexion and fine figure. With all those blessings of beauty, wealth, and noble birth, it is not surprising she had a deeply held belief that the world always smiles upon her.

Or so she thought. At least it’s smiling at her now.

“Ser Gilmore? Is something wrong?” she asked, turning around and smiling to see a stolidly built knight, with red-gold hair and a fair face walking towards her. “Nothing serious, my lady. But there is something I need your help with. It’s about your dog. ”

Oh. “That dog. What’s he done now?” she asked, keeping disappointment off her voice. 

“I fear your hound has the kitchens in uproar again. Nan is threatening to leave,” he informed her. 

She waved a hand. “Oh, Nan is blowing off steam. She’s always like that,” she said dismissively.

Ser Gilmore gave her a scolding look. “Your mother disagrees. She wants you to collect the dog, and quickly. You know these mabari hounds. He’ll listen to his mistress but anyone else risks having an arm bitten off.”

“Fine. I guess I should collect him then,” she said, pouting. But actually, she was thrilled she had an excuse to be walking with the knight. Maybe she’ll give the dog some treat later?

The pair walked off towards the kitchens. When they thought they were out of earshot of anyone, the knight asked her. “Pardon me my lady, but is it true a Grey Warden arrived?”

Elissa smiled. “Hmmm…maybe,” she said playfully.

He was indignant. “Maybe? Is he there or not?”

She laughed, putting a placating hand on his arm. “Yes he’s there. I just saw him. He was talking to Father.”

he calmed down enough to continue asking her with interest. “Really? What does he look like?”

“He looks very dangerous, although he should smile every now and then. He’s so dour-looking, he makes Arl Howe look handsome.”

“You know that’s not a polite way to describe someone from an order of great warriors.”

She scoffed. “Why not? They’re hardly important.”

The knight gave up trying to convince her to make her see them his way. “And did he…ask about me?”

Something about it made her stop in her tracks. “Why would he ask about you?”

Ser Gilmore looked away from her. “I...have wanted to join the Grey Wardens," he revealed. "I have mentioned it to your Father, and he says he knows someone who was a Warden and he’ll pass it along.”

“Why would you do that? You don’t have to join them, you know. You are perfectly fine here. Father and Mother are fond of you. _We_ are fond of you. Why would you go off to join some obscure order?”

Ser Gilmore hesitated. “I…I want to tell you about that, but not here.”

Elissa looked both ways before pushing Ser Gilmore to a small covered corner of the pathway. “Can you tell me about it now?”

“You really are relentless.”

She laughed. “That’s part of my charm. So why are you joining them?”

Ser Gilmore turned away from her. “Look, I heard rumors about..about your betrothal to Lord Thomas Howe. Is that true?”

“Hmmm.” Elissa put her hands on her back, and tiptoed to Ser Gilmore. She peered up at him under her lashes. “Are you jealous?”

He took a moment to reply. “I’m….not. I guess I’m happy for you.”

Elissa dropped her act, surprised that he would believe that. “You can’t be serious. Tommy Howe is five years younger than I am.”

“Some people can be married to someone younger than they are. And I’ve seen Arl Howe talking with your Father. I guessed they’re talking about your marriage with him.”

“Yes, but Father said to him that we’re both still too young for betrothals”

He heaved a sigh of relief. Then he turned to look at her and his expression hardened.  “Even if it wasn’t true, the same thing will happen again. Next year, he will still ask for you in his son’s behalf, and your father cannot put him off forever. It won’t be just Arl Rendon who will come. All over Ferelden, noble sons will come to court you and talk with your father. And I can’t…I can’t stand by and watch.” He weaved his hand in his hair. “Look, whatever we have, it must stop now. You’re my Lord’s daughter and I’m just a son of a poor squire. Without your father, I might have been left to be like my father, an ignoramus and a violent drunkard, not learning my letters, or know anything about being a knight. Anything better. The time I spent here is the best moments of my life. I am grateful, for your father and I have come to love your family-”

“And what about me?”

Ser Gilmore cupped his hands around her face and held her gently. “You were the best thing I have ever beheld. But you’re meant to be an Arlessa or a Teryna, while I’m..I’m not going to be more than a squire. I will only be your ruin. And so, it’s best that I leave.”

“I don’t care about being a teryna or an arlessa.” She caresses the sleeve of his doublet and said softly, “I want you.”

“If only it was that simple.”

“It is! No one would force something to do what she doesn’t want.”

“What about your Mother?”

“What about my Mother?”

“What would she do if she found out about us? Or your Father? They’ll be disappointed. They were counting on you to make a good marriage. But that’s not going to happen when a lowly squire like me had the gall to court their daughter, like an ingrate.”

“They shouldn’t be expecting me to do that. Fergus should’ve done his duty in marrying a respectable Fereldan woman, instead of making a scandal abroad. I like Oriana and I adore Oren, but _she_ is only a merchant’s daughter. I know that in Antiva, merchants are as good as the nobility. But this is not Antiva. Lineage is more important than money. She does not have alliances and barely enough wealth to be a wife to a future teyrn.” She checks herself as she realized who she was talking to. “Siblings other than the heir are exempt from this rule.”

“Of course,” he said, drily. He gripped her arms gently, expecting her to fight what he’s going to say. “And now, you have to make those alliances.”

“No. Fergus should still have made those. It was his responsibility.”

“Would you have let the scandal to continue? Would you have prevented your brother from marrying her, if you know that a pair of Antivan blades will be sent to him from an angry father?”

She thought for a moment and knew he was right. “I suppose you’re right," she conceeded. "I don’t want him dead. But I still don’t like being forced to marry some noble.”

“You know alliances shift all the time. You’re not safe just being from a teryn’s family. You have to have the ear of the king. And right now, the ear of the king is held by his father-in-law. And he is strongly against foreigners right now.”  
“Only Orlesians.”

“Yes but there are already rumors that your family is becoming too friendly with Orlais. So your family needs to prove that you are loyal Fereldans.”

“He can’t be seriously thinking we are in league with Orlesians!" she said hotly. "We are the Couslands, second only to the King. We have served the Theirins for generations. While he is an upstart, and so is his daughter, no matter how pretty or smart she is.” She played with a curl of her hair, a dull bronze compared to the Queen’s gold locks. “He has no right to be suspicious of us. We are loyal.”

“No one’s doubting your family’s loyalty to the king. But your family’s loyalty to his advisers? That’s another matter.”

Elissa paced as she considered this. “So I have to get married to somebody to appease these people?”

Ser Gilmore smiled sadly. “Be brave, my lady.”

“And you are running away from me and to the Wardens?”

“It’s better this way.”

They were silent. Elissa was near crying from frustration. She knew he was right; her mother had already suspected that there is something much more than the usual flirtation between them. But still, it’s not fair. If only he was born noble as she is. She loved the knight because he was what she expected of them: honorable, chivalrous and brave. She never expected, however, that those same virtues she admired so much would be used against her.

Shouts interspersed with barks recalled them to the present and they remembered that they had yet to fetch the bloody dog.

“Shall we go to the kitchens then?” she asks, her heart sinking.

“Lead the way, my Lady.” He smiled, perhaps for the last time, with love.

 


	3. Chapter 3

At the rising of the sun, they went home.

“It’s a good day today,” Tamlen said as he shifted the deer to his other shoulder. Mahariel agreed, her hands holding the big basket that held their catch from the traps they made. There were no humans or bears about and the deer was shot down cleanly.

“Ashalle would be glad,” he prompted, his tone awkward.

“Yes,” she answered, just as awkward.

Everything is awkward today. She wished they could continue bantering like before, not like today where they made stilted conversation. As they walked towards camp, becoming more and more embarrassed, she wished that that day never happened.

Tamlen was her childhood friend and her favorite hunting partner. But only a few days back did she know that he dreamed more than that and presented her with pelt so soft and so beautiful it filled all that had seen it with envy. She, however, had never thought of him the way he wanted and never will.

“I see. Is it because there someone is else you love?” he asked, his eyes filled with hurt, as his gift was returned to him.

“No!” she said and blushed. “I’m so sorry, Tamlen, I never want you hurt. But I cannot accept this, as I never thought of you in that way,” she stammered. “If I’d known earlier, I would have…kept away,” she finished, lamely.

“Please, I don’t want you to go away.”

As the silence stretched between them, Mahariel shifted from one foot to the other while Tamlen stood silent, his head bowed. Finally, he tried to raise the gift as if he would press his suit again but decided against it. “If you change your mind….well, you know where to find me,” he said, thinking it’s best to try another time. Why worry, when she said there was no one else.

And so they came to this point, once who were closest of friends now acting like strangers. Blessedly, the camp was in sight and Mahariel breathed a small sigh of relief. It’d be many days before they would go on watch together and she could have a few days not looking at Tamlen’s pleading eyes.

“That’s it then. Until next time,” Tamlen said, with a small stiff smile. They divided their hunts for each of them and for the clan. Mahariel said her goodbye and went to Ashalle, the woman who had adopted her and the one she treated as her mother.

In front of their tent, Ashalle was sitting in front of the fire, grinding the acorn into flour to use in making the flatbread. She looked up as she heard someone approaching, and seeing her, smiled. Mahariel gave the hunts to her and Ashalle set it aside, planning to smoke it later. She took a bowl, dipped a ladle into the pot cooking over the fire and filled the bowl with wild bean stew. She handed it to her daughter along with some flatbread she had warmed.

As her daughter ate her breakfast slowly, her spoon lingering a lot of times in her bowl, Ashalle noticed her face looked troubled. “Had something gone wrong today?” she asked, as she continued grinding flour.

Mahariel nibbled at the bread. “No,” she answered. Ashalle smiled but said nothing, knowing that Mahariel will tell her when she is ready.

“It’s Tamlen,” she confessed. 

“Tamlen again?”

Mahariel looked at her with surprise. “Everyone knows then,” she said bitterly. Ashalle chuckled and said, “Ah, but Tamlen had not been gossiping as you thought. He came to me himself, asking for permission to marry you.”

Her ears pricked up. “What did you say?”

“I said he is a worthy young man and I could not be prouder of him. But he must ask your permission, not mine.” At that, Mahariel slumped in her seat. Ashalle took a peek at her and asked, “So, did you give him an answer? He has been waiting patiently for a long while.”

Mahariel bit her lip, her head bowed. “I don’t know, Mamae. I am very fond of him, but not as a husband. I wish to be free, only to hunt and serve the clan. But I cannot think of myself married as I do it.” In a small voice, she added: “I don’t think marriage is a good thing for me at all.”

Ashalle heard it and laughed. “Now, why would you think that?” When Mahariel fearfully raised her eyes at her, she knew she was thinking of her. Ashalle had been married to a man in another clan, but she was barren and the marriage was fruitless. After many arguments, she set him free and returned to her clan here, her heart heavy as she loved her husband dearly. She was bitter and thought she will never be happy again, dedicating the rest of her life to the clan and nursing a young woman who had foolishly fell in love with a young keeper from another clan. She gave birth to a daughter, but the birth was too much for her and she pleaded with Ashalle to treat the babe as her own before she died. Ashalle was a cold-hearted woman then, but gradually the baby in her arms made her smile and gave her another reason to live on. That reason was Mahariel.

Ashalle reached out and lifted Mahariel’s chin so she saw her directly. “You fear you would end up the same as me, isn’t it?” she asked, smiling. When Mahariel lowered her eyes, she said gently, “It had not always been sad for me. When I was married, I thought I was the happiest of women, for my husband loved and treasured me. He treated me as the closest to his own heart. But alas, love is not enough, and no children came to bless our marriage. He did not reproach me for that, content to be with me for all days, but I saw how his clan thought of him less for not having children to come after him and him insisting on keeping me in spite of it. It was my choice to leave, and though it caused me sorrow, I did not feel regret.” She smiled, as she looked at Mahariel. “So don’t fear it because of me. You can be happy too in marriage. I only wish that you do not have my luck.”

“I might have my parent’s luck,” Mahariel said quietly.

“Still they were happy, even with the little time they had, or else they would not have you.” When Mahariel stayed silent, she added, “Be brave with this as with anything else, dalen. You might find happiness, even somewhere you do not expect.”

Mahariel was comforted with her mother’s words and stood up. “Ma serannas. I will tell you later of my choice.” She hugged Ashalle and whispered “Ar lath ma, Mamae.” Ashalle smiled, and patted the arm on her shoulders. Then Mahariel released her and said goodbye saying she was going to meet Merrill.

As she walked away, Ashalle wiped a tear on her cheek, looking at the child she was finally blessed to have.

 


	4. Chapter 4

He stood some minutes at the threshold of a house, when the door opened and a pair of dwarves greeted him.

“My lord Aeducan? What can we do for you?” said the man. More like what he can do for them.

The woman however, took one look at his face and the sack he had been carrying, then she knew. “Oh, nononono..my boy…my Brodda”. She went down on her knees, keening in broken-hearted sobs.

“My dear, what’s wrong?” asked her husband to her. When his wife continued crying, he turned a bewildered face to him. “My lord?”

He took a deep breath. “I am sorry, Lord and Lady Gelmir. Your son has fallen in the Deep Roads but he had died a hero.” He had done this many times, to the parents of those who had returned to the Stone through wounds and the Taint. It was his duty to perform and the last to every person under his command. He had led them to the life of a soldier, and it was only right that he will lead them out of it.

Lord Gelmir swayed as he stood, then knelt to comfort his wife. Finally he was overcome and he wept. The stranger heard this cry before, and he remembered how the son had cried like that, calling for his mother as he rotted from the inside. Before he lost his sanity, he asked him to give his armor back to his parents and he be the one to slit his throat. He had done all that, so here he was, the sack heavy in his hands, knowing that anything he can say will never be equal to their loss.

He had bequeathed the armor to them and said their son’s final goodbye, before he left them in their own grief. He walked a little while, remembering the lad and also,saying farewell to his memory.

“Lord Thorin.”

He whirled at the source of the voice. “Gorim. What are you doing here?” he said, to a red-haired dwarf leaning on a pillar.

Gorim snorted. “More like what are you doing here. Don’t you remember what it is today?”

Thorin thought for a second and groaned.

 “Indeed. There is a celebration for you for being promoted Commander. I’m hoping you remembered or your brother will both have our hides. Although…” he looked at the house “it’s not a good day for you, isn’t it?”

“These kind of parties are never a good day for me. I would have been happiest if we just drank all day until we are rolling on the floor and seeing double.”

“Hmm, I would have liked that too. But it is your father’s wish. He was so proud of you.” He looked again at the house. “At least you deserve it,” he said softly.

Thorin’s face darkened. “Do not speak ill of the boy. He has done his duty, whatever he was.” He had been too young, too rash, too boastful. It took Thorin all his will to make the boy be the warrior he was meant to be, but it was nearly too late. The Taint took him just after he started to outgrow that youthful recklessness and arrogance.

“Forgive me my Lord. So shall we go back to the palace?”

* * *

 

He was suited and ready to be paraded, much to Gorim’s laughter. He insisted bringing his shield and Gorim snarked that that would reveal him to the nobles as a warrior, if they hadn’t known already. He shrugged that off. The shield carrying was a habit he picked up, living in the Deep Roads for far too long. He felt comforted by the feel of a shield on his back, more than wearing the ceremonial armor his grandfather had worn. Gorim told him the party won’t start later, so they had time to stroll in the merchants quarter or watch the Proving in honor of the Grey Warden Commander, Duncan. He chose strolling.

They were checking out some armors and weapons when they were spotted.

“Atrast vala, big brother. How surprising to run into you out among the common folk,” his younger brother, Bhelen, said. His face looks harried. It always is when he was with their elder brother, Trian who is standing to his side. They must have been talking as he looked irritated at the sight of him.

Thorin looked at him and he knew he was used as a distraction to their elder brother. Because Trian is once again looking like he’s about to chew someone out.

“Especially since duty requires you attend our father the king. Have you little respect for him to disregard his wishes on a day set for you?” His elder brother asked sharply.

Knew it. Before he can say anything, Gorim spoke up. “Lord Harrowmont assured me we would’nt be needed for hours at least-”

“Silence! If I want the opinion of my sibling’s second, I will ask for it.” said he, cutting him off. Gorim mumbled “Yes Your highness” and backed away.

Thorin looked repprovingly at Trian and said. “Don’t speak to him like that.”

“I’ll speak to the lower houses and castes as they should be spoken to.” Stone, he love his brother but he makes it hard to be loyal. “Now do as I say.”

Thorin gritted his teeth. “I will go at my leisure.”

Trian went red with rage, then he stepped closer to him, face to face. “If I am king, you will never be allowed to act like that to me again,” he snarled. “Come, Bhelen,” he said, snapping his fingers. Bhelen looked at Thorin, sheepish, then followed like a dog to their brother’s retreating back.

When they were gone, Gorim turned to him and said “That was fun. Nothing like being talked down by the next king.”

“He had better not be like that when he is king. The nobles won’t stand a tyrant.”

“Oh? What has your brother done now?”

Thorin turned at the speaker. Finally, a person he likes to talk to. “Adal. Stone met.”

Lady Adal, daugther of Lord Helmi. Also his bethroted.

Thorin nodded at Gorim and his second retreated to a respectful distance. Then Thorin strolled with her. She asked him about his brother.

“He has been throwing his weight again. Reminding each and every noble that he is the firstborn Aeducan, as if they didn’t know already.”

“As he should, since the election is coming up. He must be anxious.”

“Yes, skittish as a nug in a dwarven kitchen. I just wish he doesn’t shat on us all while he’s at it.”

She laughed. “Oh Thorin, you were always my favorite.”

“Oh? I had competition?”

“Plenty. But before you, there’s just no comparison.”

“Good to know. Embarrassing, otherwise. Not looking forward to talking to your father why you chose me and not the others.”

“Oh, don’t worry about my father. I think he loves you more than I do.”

“Hmm. I like my chances. At least I wouldn’t expect him on our wedding day threatening to disembowel me if I did anything funny to you.”

“If you did anything funny to me, I think he’d still adore you.”

Thorin chuckled. This is why he was going to marry her. She had a sensible head on her shoulders and a funny bone to boot. They had been friends since childhood and when his father dropped hints that it was time for him to marry, he never hesitated to ask her.

“About that, I want to talk you about something and you’re not going to like it,” he said.

“Oh? Is this the part where we tell each other’s dirty secrets? Like you always leave your clothes on the floor so I should expect to pick it up after you forever?”

“Save it when we’re married. This is more pressing.”

She waited.

“We’re going to postpone the wedding.”

“What?!”

“At least until Trian is crowned. I didn’t like the look I got from him when I announced our engagement.” He looked like he was about to kill him then his bethroted. His brother isn’t a particular favorite with the nobles, and seeing his younger brother being the toast of Orzammar and being allied with one of the strongest noble houses, must have turned his mood sour.

“So we’re not getting married because your brother looked you wrong?”

“Don’t be like that. We’re still getting married, just later. I don’t want to get married while Trian is in a foul mood. He might crash the cake.”

“Poor cake. I think I should tell the baker to make it from granite.”

“Yeah, tell him to come to me. I think I could find plenty of that in the Deep Roads.”

They shared a laugh, as they always do.

“So, I have work to do, telling everyone the wedding is delayed. And what would the handsome groom do?”

“I’m going back to the Deep Roads, at least, until the election is over.  I find I like hearing more my men’s snoring than Trian’s tirades.”

“So I’m going to play the part of the pining lover?”

“Yes, you do that marvelously, the way you polish your ax.”

She laughed for a while before asking “Don’t you think he has other reasons for being …testy?”

“Like what?”

“Like there having a stronger contender for the throne?”

“There’s no one else who has a stronger claim than he has. Lord Harromont may try, but he’s too loyal to my father. The other noble houses may, but they don’t come close to my family in terms of prestige and honor.”

“Maybe it doesn’t have to be from another house. Maybe it comes from someone who had the esteem of both the noble and warrior caste by his fearless campaigns against the darkspawn.”

Thorin stopped in his tracks, flabbergasted. “What idiot pushed my name forward?”

‘It’s been talked about by everyone. If you were just born first, the deshyrs would accept you as king without a murmur.”

“Well, I’m not the firstborn. Trian is. And I would never go for the throne. Not while Trian lives. Besides, I’m not that fond of sitting on my ass all day listening to nobles argue about who owed money to whom.”  
“Well said.”

Thorin gave a sidelong glance at her. “And don’t you want to be Queen?”

“Well no, I’m not that fond of being Queen, nudging my husband the King awake while the nobles argue about who owed money to whom.”

Thorin laughed. “So there it is, my dirty little secret. You’re going to marry an unambitious man. There’s still time to get out of the wedding if you have second thoughts.”

“The second thoughts that I have is the color of my wedding dress but the rest of it” she kissed his cheek “I have no doubts.”


	5. Chapter 5

At a Tower in the middle of the lake, a storm broke.

“I told you she should’ve been given the Rite of Tranquility. But you insisted she undergo the Harrowing! Thanks to you, we might have a powerful abomination in our hands.” A voice hissed above her. She heard boots pacing to and fro on her left.     Then the voice continued. “She already is too powerful for her age and she made it clear that she hates us. If she wakes, it will be with a demon”

“You and your men should not have smited her for every tantrum she throws, Gregoire,” a soft weary voice answered.

“She throws more than a trantrum. She nearly destroyed the first level room with a fireball the other day. I’ve talked to the builders and they said any more would’ve have shot a hole through the walls. Imagine that, Irving! Not yet harrowed but she could blow a building to bits! We should put her down,” the voice of the man named Gregiore said.

“That would be a waste of talent. Given enough time, she would be a great mage, and a treasure to the Circle.”

Gregoire just snorted.

“I repeat, as I do now, that every mage should have a chance to prove themselves. And even the Chantry is not prepared for Tranquil children, Gregoire.” 

“She’s not a child. She has the face of one, but at her heart, she is a fiend. She’s uncontrollable, Irving!”

“ She is mischeivous yes, but not malicious. ”

“Not malicious? She set Cullen’s hair on fire!”

“Then perhaps you should’ve have warned your people that she doesn’t like templars touching her.”

“Don’t blame it on my men! They have every right to seize her when she’s destroying Circle property!”

“Uh, Knight Commander? I think she’s waking up,” said a nervous voice.

Who wouldn’t with all that racket?

The small elf girl slowly sat up and held her head in her hands, black locks falling over them as she tries to make sense of what happened in the Fade. The experience was certainly….harrowing.

“Are you alright, child?” First Enchanter Irving. The girl did not reply. Meanwhile, Knight Commander Gregoire and his templars were looking at her, hands on the pommel of their swords, as though she might sprout claws any second.

She saw that and her head snapped up. “What the-are you trying to use that on me? ARE YOU GOING TO CUT ME WHILE I’M ASLEEP?! Cowards!” She shot up straight and bristling like an angry goose.

Irving sighed. That the girl was fuming as usual is proof that demons had not got ahold of her, though she is acting like it. “Good morning, Neria Surana. You have passed the Harrowing. From this day forth, you are now a junior mage of the Circle.”

He might’ve farted for all the attention the girl gave him. Which is none. She was trembling from head to foot, her green eyes blazing at the armored men.

“Bring it on then! You want a fight? Fine, I’ll give it to you. If I can wipe the floor with the big bad demon, I sure can do it with big bad templars!”

“Calm yourself, mage!”

“I HAVE A NAME, YOU STUPID TEMPLAR!”

“Enough! All of you, stand down,” Irving shouted before the templars smite his new mage. “Gregoire, you know better than to give in to her baiting. Miss Surana, do not dishonor your new status on the day you got it by starting a fight. This should be a joyful occasion, for all of us.”

“Well I’m not going to party with those tinheads,” she huffed. “I’m going to sleep. I don’t like being dragged out of bed in the middle of the night just so I could sleep on the cold floor.” She turned her heel and was about to storm off to the apprentices’ dormitory, when Irving called her back.

“Miss Surana, do not tell the other apprentices about the Harrowing. This must only be known to those have passed through it.”

“Yeah yeah. Whatever,” she said, suppressing a yawn. Then she promptly walked out of the room. Some of the templars made as if to follow her but a look from Irving stopped them.

“She might be possessed, sir”.

Irving turned to the knight commander. “Well Gregoire?”

“Insolent as usual, but not possessed,” he answered. He sheathed his sword and turned to the first enhanter. “You and I have to talk about how to control her. Now that she’s harrowed, she must not be allowed to continue acting like that.”

The first enchanter replied. “You know, control is the last thing you should be doing. If it wasn’t for it, all of this.” he gestured towards the templars with the hands still on their swords “would not have been necessary.”


	6. Chapter 6

“Hey thanks,” the elf said as he heaved the last of the plates to the kitchen sink. The portly human cook of the estate just grunted. "Lemme see ya thankin me when ya done with those,” he said, pointing at the hall where the last of the diners had left.

“I meant, thank you for getting me in here. It’s hard getting a job, now.”

“If ya kept ya head down and stop gettin into fights, ya might have one better than this,” he said, nodding at the dirty plates stacked a meter high at the sink. Tabris put on an apron and started washing. 

“I don’t get into fights. The fights get to me,” he answered.

“All the same.” A pause, then he asked “Why ya so keen on getting a job anyway? I neva see ya anymore except when ya doing something or other.”

“Hey, you mind if I get this?” Tabris asked as he held the trimmings of a loaf, the hard crusts that nobles are loathe to eat.

“Sure. Don’t think they will miss that.” Tabris smiled and put it carefully in a paper bag.

“I’m getting married,” he said shortly.

“Wha?”

“I’m getting married. ”

“So?”

“So, I have to have some money tucked away. It’s not just me that I have to keep alive anymore.

“So that’s why ya workin your ass. Why would ya do that, marrying? Ya still too young, ya know?”

“It’s a…tradition of ours.”

“Huh. Ya all crazy.”

“That’s rich, coming from a married guy like you.”

“And the worst thing I’ve ha ever done. Women, bah. If ya just getting itchy, get a whore. She’s not gonna screw you over till you die.”

“I think that sounds fantastic actually.”

“Huh. You’re really crazy.”

Tabris finished washing the plates and left to wipe down the dining table and chairs at the hall. It was late when he finished. When he was about to leave, the cook held him up.

“Here. To go with ya trimmings.” He held another bag.

Tabris looked into it. It was high quality preserved meat.  “You shouldn’t. These are expensive.” And also something the cook would be in trouble for, if the owners find out.

“I’m not gonna let some elf tell me what I should do and don’t do in my kitchen. Now go before I haul your sorry ass off.”

“I don’t know how I can repay you. Can I kiss you, at least?”

“Shove off.”

Tabris put the bag in his pack.

“Ya a good boy. Not like those other elves.”

“Thank you. Really.”

“If ya wife turns out a hag, don’t come crying to me, though. I warned ya.”

“Right. I’ll remember that.”

And so Tabris walked out the estate with a light heart. He figured maybe he could trade the meat for fish. It would have been good if he could surprise his father and cousins to eat something so luxurious for once, but he knew they’ll need coin for the wedding. But before he could do that, he spotted three humans who were loafing ahead the alley. The humans looked up and spotted him. He swore silently.

He clutched at his pack and turned to a sidepath, away from them, careful not letting his fear show. He drew his daggers from the secret pockets, weapons he had inherited from his mother and is forbidden for any elf to carry. He put them inside his sleeves, making sure they can be whipped out if it came to worse. It did, as when he emerged at the end of the path, the same humans were waiting for him.

“What have you got there?” asked one of them, eyeing him up and down.

“Nothing. Just some garbage, that’s all.”

“Let me see.”

He backed away. They saw that and they stepped closer.

“I said let me see,” they insisted, coming closer.

“It’s smelly and rotting. You don’t really want to see this.”

The human sneered at him and turned towards his companions. “Hey, this dirty knife ear is talking back to me. What do you say, boys?”

“I say we teach him a lesson,” said his friend, drawing a knife from his pockets.

“You don’t want to do that.”

The humans stared at him.

“And why would we not?”

He looked them dead in the eye. “You don’t want to die.”

They stared at him for a moment and then they laughed. “Let’s see if you still talk like that after we’re done with you.” He lunged.

He sprang back and ran back at the sidepath. The humans chased him, too confident in their skills. They didn’t know, that with the wall on both sides of the path, that they have already lost their advantage in numbers.

Tabris drew his own daggers and faced the one in front of him. As he thought, they were just thugs, all power and no skill. They didn’t know they were facing someone who was secretly trained in knifefights for years. And so the human looked surprised, when he dodged the knife and plunged his dagger between the ribs. He was still looking at him, blood pouring from his mouth as he slid to the ground. The others saw their friend fall and they yelled. The next one, charged, heedless, but the elf stepped aside on the last minute and stabbed him though the back. The last one saw his companion crumple to the ground, and stared at him now with fear in eyes.

“You piece of shit. I’m gonna make you pay for this!”

He died, bravely.

Tabris looked at his blood spattered clothes. The guard at the alienage will never let him in now with clothes like that and past curfew. He thought for a moment then took off his shirt, reversed it and put it on. He searched around for mud, saw a puddle and scooped it, splashing it on the bloodstains.  The stains are hardly noticeable now, looking like dirt instead of blood. Let the guards think he’s an idiot for putting his shirt on backwards. The he looked around and saw the bodies. 

No use hiding them. They’re just another casualty of city living. But well, if he’s going to be living in sin because of them, might as well help himself. He checked around their pockets.


	7. Chapter 7

Amadeus Amell had his head buried in books at the Circle library, cataloging. Three more days of this drudgery and he could go. But not if he slaughtered everyone within the tower. So he’s trying to find any reason why he could not strangle the necks of everyone and anyone he meets. Any reason will do.

“Shine my boots.”

Grr.

“Heal those wounds.”

Grr.

“Do my thesis.”

GRRR.

He ought to be following up on the missing books. Not deal with this shit.

He heard his name being called. Again.

“Someone had better be dying!” he snarled, not looking around from his table.

“Does being made Tranquil count?”

Amadeus whirled around and found a chantry initiate, the only one he can stand from the self-righteous twits. She was biting her lip and  glancing from side to side.

“Oh, it's you Lily. What is it?”he asked, the sharp tone disappearing in his voice when he saw her. By the look of her, this was more serious than smuggling forbidden books right under the Chantry Mother’s nose.

She came closer and whispered. “I need your help.”

He looked around and made sure his fellow mages are not paying attention to them, before whispering back. “About what?”

She told him what she needed doing. When she was done, he sat back and crossed his arms. “That’s not a good idea Lily. You could get caught. I could get caught. And Gregoire’s not the forgiving type.”

“I know. But, I can’t let him be Tranquil. It’s not right.”

They fell silent.

“So can you help me or not?”

He sighed. One last job, and he’ll be out of this bloody tower.

“Then you need a plan.”


	8. Chapter 8

The job was a shakedown of some dwarf who was double dealing with Beraht, but it was either his neck or theirs. The choice was easy.

Then Beraht gave them a job to fix the Proving in honor of some Grey Warden. They were told to poison the opponent of Beraht’s choice. Off they go to the Grounds, strolling in like the nobles, who looked at them with disgust but placed their bets eagerly on which fighters would get most of his blade wet with blood. When a guard came to arrest them, he waved the permits on his face and the guard let them go. That was funny.

And then they entered the room of their mark and everything went to hell from there.

“Sod it! He’s stone drunk! He coulda draw a dead man’s bout and he’d still lose. Beraht’s gonna kill us!” Leske cried as Brosca shook Beraht’s dwarf, to no avail. Leske stopped short of tearing out his hair when he looked at Brosca, with a curious expression.

“Hey, I have an idea," he said finally, as Brosca eyed him curiously. "You keep boastin you’ve got the meanest blade around and you’re the same size as his armor. Why don’t you go as him? No one will know.”

 Brosca thought on this as he looked at the snoring drunk. Leske saying he had an idea is like a nug saying it has a brain. Unlikely, unexpected and ultimately disastrous. Leske is good at bluster but he always need a steady head beside him to keep his ass off trouble. But as present circumstance shows, he didn't have much choice but to accept his idea. “I like the way ye think. Though if I gotta go as him, I gotta go honest. No poison,” Brosca said.

“Alright. Your death it is. Get in the armor. And no talkin,” Leske replied as he undid the straps of the armor on their dwarf.

No talking indeed. He couldn’t even grunt, for the easy way he cut down his opponents like butter. He was feeling definitely crazy, when the Proving Master announced he was the Champion. He was bathing in the victory and the cheering, forgetting for a moment that he was a duster, when a dwarf stumbled out to the arena and said “Wha-is it my bout a’ready? Hey? That’s my armor!” while pointing at Brosca.

That son of a nug Leske had forgotten to lock the dwarf to his room.

The crowd fell silent, confused. Then his last opponent, whom he had carved a new nose, pushed his lackeys out of the way to cry “Wait! I know that man!” he pointed to the newcomer. “That’s Everd. Then..what imposter did I fight?” he looked at Brosca with venom.

The proving master came out of his confusion and said “Remove your helmet warrior, and let all see your face.”

Brosca smiled. He was growing tired with the pretending anyway. Let them see who he is, the snobby fools. He removed his helmet and at once they saw the brand. The crowd gasped, shocked as he started laughing. “I ain’t no caste or clan, but I beat y’all!”, he shouted. The people held their breath, like a calm before a storm, before the whole arena erupted with their shocked roars and outraged shouts. The proving master was shouting something about him dishonoring the Proving but he just laughed. These fools don’t know anything about honor even if it was shoved up their asses.

He was still laughing like a madman as the guards dragged him away, even when a human was arguing with the proving master.

What a fine day. He wished the days were like this, where he could tell those nobles what he really thought of them.


	9. Chapter 9

Teyrna Eleanor Cousland nee Mac Eanraig, was well-loved by her family as well as her people, for, even though she was not born of noble blood, she was skilled with the sword as well as the needle and she had fought bravely with the Teyrn during the wars for Ferelden’s independence. She retired to Highever to rule over them as a fair, generous and capable teyrna, and with her husband, made Highever prosperous and the envy of all the other arlings. They have two beautiful children but unfortunately for her, she was blessed with a daughter so unlike her. She took her daughter’s education on herself and tried hard to correct those defects of character, but her duties kept her from ensuring her instructions succeeded and so the wily girl always found a way to indulge her whims.

She mentioned it to her husband one day in his study that their daughter is growing up to be a vain, foolish young woman, taking too much pride in her noble birth and her beauty, but her husband just laughed. “You worry too much, my dear. She is young and as long as she is happy and in good health, I’m content. She knows her duty and wouldn’t do anything to make us ashamed of her. Let her learn her own lessons,” he said. It didn’t help that he was making little encouragements to their daughter in any imprudent scheme of hers, and then laughing behind her back.

Eleanor sighed and turned away from her husband to stand in front of the window, looking on the city below. “I know. It’s just that, I don’t know, I feel like something is going to go wrong and I just want them to be safe, or at least I need to see that they can take care of themselves.” She thought on Fergus, their heir, and how he had mellowed after his marriage and the birth of his son.

How could her children be so different from her? She is a child of war, while Fergus and Elissa are children of peace. They see everything good that were given to them as their right, while she knows everything they have now was won through sweat and blood. They move on from one pleasure to another as easy as changing their clothes, while she hopes to make it last, knowing that the next might not come.

Her husband saw the little crease between her brows and know she will be up all night pacing the floor of their bedroom, so he joined her on the window, putting a reassuring hand on her shoulder. “They’ll be alright, my love. I was like them too when I was young, but I turned up alright.”

She laughed, remembering the young man who had foolishly challenged her, the daughter of a notorious raider, control of her own ship. He was a puffed-up young cockerel then, parading on the deck of the ship, boasting that he is the teyrn's son and so the boss and they should all obey him. The young man had his ass handed to him by her and many years later, is still in her keeping.

“And you married me!” he said, laughing, joining in with her mirth. That only made them both laugh harder.  

* * *

 

Now, she tried to keep that memory in mind, as she saw the look on her daughter’s face that said she was planning something foolish again. She would have known about it in three questions but now is not the time, as she was having tea with some visitors in the lounge. Teyrna Eleanor broke off the conversation when she saw her and said “And here is my lovely daughter. I take it by the presence of that troublesome hound of yours that the situation in the kitchen is handled?”

“Yes Mother,” her daughter answered, trying to be merry as possible. Her mother was satisfied with her demeanour then said. “Darling, remember Lady Leandra? Bann Loren’s wife?”

The visitor smiled at her. “I think we last met at your mother’s spring salon.” Eleanor saw how her daughter’s eye stealthily took in her guest’s dress, noting it is of the latest fashions. She expects later her daughter demanding the dressmaker to make one like that.  But she only said “It is good to see you again, my lady”.

“You’re too kind, dear girl. Didn’t I spend half the salon trying to convince you to marry my son?”

“And made a very poor case for it I might add,” said his son, Dairren. Elissa blushed, as much with embarassment as with vexation as she remembered that disastrous day. She was just about to dance with Ser Gilmore, after dancing with a string of nobles and knights to make it look like to everyone watching, including her mother, that she only obliged to dance with the poor knight as a gracious young lady should, when Lady Leandra got ahold of her arm, and pressed her to marry her son, complimenting her beauty and her manners in a slurred voice. She had to spend the night on the sofa rebuffing the lady’s drunken pleas, and trying to keep her dress from being vomited on, all the while seeing her knight dancing with some tart from the Bannorn. Her patience was nearly gone that night, for she spent half the day on her dress and her hair, only to spend half the night sitting and supporting a very drunken lady courting her for her son. It’s really not to his son’s credit that his mother do the courting for him. It hurt her vanity so deeply, she isn’t planning to flirt with him, as was her way when near eligible, young men.

 “You remember my son, Dairren? He’s not married yet,” hinted his mother, more for Eleanor’s sake than Elissa’s.

“Don’t listen to her.” He turned to her and smiled, apologetically. “It’s good to see you, my lady. You’re looking as beautiful as ever.”

Elissa smiled now with more sincerity, pleased at the little compliment. “Thank you. You too are looking handsome today.”

“And this is my lady in waiting, Iona. Do say something dear,” said Lady Leandra, as she pushed at the elf at her side.

“It is a great pleasure my lady, you are as pretty as your Mother describes,” the elf, said, stuttering.  

“You would think it would be easier to make a match for her, not more difficult,” said her mother drily.

Dairren’s gallantry rose. “Perhaps you daughter simply has a mind of her own, your ladyship. You should be proud”.

“Proud doesn’t get me anymore grandchildren.”

“Mother!”

Her mother just smiled at her and asked where she was going. Elissa answered she was to take her father’s message to Fergus. They talked a few more, Eleanor asking her if she would like to show their young geuests around later. She agreed, so she then let her pass.

Elissa took her leave of them and continued on her way. Out of sight of her mother, she started thinking again. Dairren is cute, though he is not as dashing as Ser Gilmore. And besides, it isn’t very romantic to have your mother doing the courting, she thought.

If Fergus could marry anybody, why shouldn’t she?


	10. Chapter 10

Thorin entered the hall and was going to head directly to his father, King Endrin, when Lord Dace spoke as he passed him by. “My Lord Aeducan, I wish to speak with you for a moment.”

Thorin stopped in his tracks and turned back to the noble. “Of course, Lord Dace. What is it?”

The noble explained there is a vote concerning the status of surfacers, the Lost to the Stone or the air touched. Narrow-minded men from centuries ago had decreed their caste forfeit and their house if they are noble. “I seek to remedy an injustice. Please agree to speak for this noble cause.”  

Thorin looked at him before asking “Why are you so interested to this?”

“Those on the surface are our our lifeline. They facilitate trade with the surface, they’re honorable….” the noble trailed off, looking at Thorin’s face, disbelief mixing with silent laughter at his attempt to describe surfacers as good. “Bah, let’s be honest. I don’t care a whit for whose who had wandered from the Stone,” he said in a harsher tone, dropping the supplicating one he adopted before. Then he began to explain that his wife had a useless cousin who went to the surface to seek his fortune. The venture failed and now he wants to return. “For my wife’s sake, I take up his cause. Will you lend me your voice?” he asked.

Thorin thought for a moment. Lord Dace wouldn’t be asking so great a request from him, a request that could overturn Orzammar society completely, just because of a fondness for his wife. He thought there is something more to it so he replied “What do you need me to do?”

“Thank you." Lord Dace leaned in to whisper. "When you are presented, say surfacers should return to their caste.”

“I will consider it, Lord Dace.” Thorin turned from him and went on his way to the dais. He was about to ask Gorim if he had any idea what Lord Dace was planning, when Lady Helmi accosted him. “Your mother would melt the stone, if she knew.”

Thorin blinked and looked at the grey eyes of Lady Helmi, still sharp in her well-worn face. “Excuse me?”

She sidled up to him and said. “Let’s take a turn about the room.” When she led him into an unobserved corner, she whispered “Lord Dace is playing you false.”

“I’ve thought so too, but I still don’t know the whole reason.”

She drew back to look him full int he face. “I’m glad to know that your time long spent in the Deep Roads hasn’t rotted your brain completely.”

“I’m glad I did not disappoint you, my lady,” he answered drily.

Lady Helmi explained that Lord Dace had financed an expedition of a merchant guild together with a guild of the surface. The venture failed and the surface guilds have no way to pay him back. Some of its members however, are formerly from the three great houses: House Helmi, House Belmot and House Aeducan.

“So if the surfacers are reinstated to their caste, our houses would be made to pay the surfacer debts,” Thorin said, slowly.

“Exactly. Your house and mine would have to pay to recover Lord Dace’s lost investment.”

 “Fine. I will let Lord Dace play me for a fool.” He turned to her and said “Thank you, Lady Helmi. I shall remember this.”

Lady Helmi smiled and said to him “If you call, my House will be at your back.”

Thorin went on his way to the dais, where King Endrin is deep in argument with Lord Bemot and Lord Meino regarding opening trade with Kal Sharok. “Our honored traditions are not political technicality. There is more to life than monetary gain, my lords. The Assembly of Kal Sharok should respect that, or be left to rot” King Endrin insisted. He looked away exasperated from the two lords and saw him. “At last, here is my second-son,” he said, cutting short whatever rebuttal Lord Bemot thought up.

Thorin crossed his arms on his chest and bowed. His father smiled, satisfied with his manners and said “You look great in grandfather’s armor. Are you ready to be presented to the noble houses?”

“Of course, Father.”

“So dutiful.” Then he sat straighter in his seat. “Ladies and Gentlemen, a moment of your time?” he announced,his voice echoing through the hall. The crowd ceased their noise at the voice of their king. “Let me present, to you, your new commander.” Thorin stepped forward and bowed to the crowd. His father added that he will be leading a campaign against the darkspawn together with the Grey Wardens, led by their commander, Duncan. Thorin looked at the dark-skinned human across the hall as he made his bow. Their eyes met and he nodded to him. Then Duncan complimented the guests and told them that there is a Blight on the surface and asked them to lend them aid. The crowd only murmured in polite assent.

“Who would propose a question to the prospect?” King Endrin asked them all. The crowd parted the way for Lord Dace as he went in front of the dais. “I have a question. I speak to know the prospect better,” he said, when he arrived beside him. His eyes looked at Thorin, holding his gaze. “What does the commander think is the proper place for those lost souls, the surfacers?”

The crowd stilled, holding their breath as they waited for his answer. Thorin looked at them all, in the eye. Then at Lord Dace.

Thorin is angry at the gall of the noble to use him against his own house for his own gain. And even if his request was really a pure concern for the welfare of surfacers, still he would not have done as he asked. For surfacers renounced the Stone, renounce the ancestors, the Paragons and Orzammar itself. They have forfeited their right as dwarves and no amount of pleading can ever restore them to Orzammar and to the Stone.

“The surfacers remain as they are,” he announced, looking at Lord Dace’s stunned expression.“Since they have turned their backs on the Stone, they shall never more be called again as dwarves, nor be restored to caste or clan.”


	11. Chapter 11

The dwarves assembled at the entrance to the Deep Roads for the quest. Thorin went to Duncan to speak to him, as he missed the oppurtunity to do it at the feast.

“Duncan,” he called to the Grey Warden commander as he approached. The human looked away from the king and saw him. “Lord Aeducan,” he said. He crossed his arms and made a deep bow. “Stone-met and may the Stone give blessings on your house.”

Thorin smiled at him. “Still formal? I think I’ve told you you need not bow to me after all you have done for me and my men.” Duncan and his wardens have occasionally met Thorin and his troop in the Deep Roads and have fought side by side against the darkspawn. Thorin had givend some of his men stricken with the Taint to the Wardens and this has started a friendship between the two groups.

“Were it in any other occasion, I would do as you wish. However, this quest is made to honor you, and it is best if I do not present myself as your equal in rank.”

“If you say so, then. So, how are you enjoying this so far?”

Duncan replied that he was glad for his promotion and the dwarves’ reception of him is as warm as ever. However, his support for him is not the only reason he was here. “The Fifth Blight had already begun and the surface lands are now overrun with darkspawn. We need your people’s strength in arms to stop such evil,” Duncan explained.

“I think you will find getting help from Orzammar at this time difficult, my friend. With the Deep Roads emptied of darkspawn, the nobles would take this as an opportunity to reclaim the ancient thaigs and so would have sent their warriors on to drive out stragglers as we speak.”

“It is as I have feared.” Duncan knew the deep resentment the dwarves held against surfacers who gave no help in their centuries-long war with the darkspawn. Now that those same darkspawn is decimating their lands, they find the dwarves are turning a deaf ear to their pleas for help.

“Take heart, Duncan. I would implore on my father to give you aid, and I promise to give you any assistance within my power.”

“Thank you.” A short silence followed, before he said “Speaking of which, I am in the midst of recruiting and I need your help.”

Thorin looked puzzled. “Did you not get your recruits? I thought there was a Proving held in your honor a week before?”

Duncan related to him what happened at the Proving. Apparently, a casteless had impersonated a noble to join the tournament and won. But he was unmasked to the whole crowd before he and the noble could get away with it. This had caused a furor so great, he had not been able to get his recruits per usual.

It would have been funny if he was telling it to any other dwarf, but Thorin only looked grave. He took the religion of the Stone, the ancestors and the Paragons very seriously. The Proving was a way to know the will of the ancestors for the dwarves, barring the casteless who were rejected by the Stone. A casteless joining a Proving and winning it, is in his mind, an act of unpardonable sacrilege.  

“It seems the casteless are becoming too bold. It was bad enough that they are strolling freely in the Diamond Quarter, but they were now being allowed to desecrate our holy grounds,” Thorin said, anger deepening in his voice. He did not miss the casteless woman who had sprung out of Bhelen’s room back in the palace and into the hallway, surprising him and Gorim. He looked upon casteless concubines as necessary evil, but he was irritated at Bhelen, who appears not to know his duty as a prince. He should have married a noble lady and have a true-born heir before taking concubines. But he put his vulgar mistress right in the royal palace, flaunting her caste in their faces.

Duncan heard the tone in his voice and knew that, with Thorin at this state, heads are going to roll, from the guards at the entrance all the way up to the Proving master. It wouldn’t surprise him if most of the faces he saw at the Proving grounds would end up facing him again as his recruits.

“So what has happened to that casteless?” asked the dwarf. Duncan answered that he was taken to the prisons but has vanished soon afterwards. Thorin tut at it, disappointed, but he returned to Duncan’s problem. “I’ll see what I can do and send you any volunteers that I can get.” He looked at Gorim to remind him after they were done here, at which his second nodded his getting his instruction.

Duncan looked at him for a moment, as if thinking how to phrase the question, before asking “Since you are dedicated to fighting the darkspawn, have you never considered becoming a Grey Warden yourself?”

Thorin was surprised at his question. Duncan however, pressed on. “You were very lucky to survive this far without getting the Taint, as so many have not. Though it seems to be tempting fate to continue fighting darkspawn without the immunity of a grey warden. You know what my kind are capable of, and you joining us would make you a more effective fighter than before.”

“True, you have a point. Still, I cannot be one of you. Your duties take you far and wide across Thedas, and you know I do not want to go topside. Besides, Orzammar has other enemies beside darkspawn. I’m sorry but I cannot leave.”   

“I understand. Still, my offer is open, if you change your mind. We will be here for a week, at least.”

Thorin thanked him and reiterated how glad he was that Duncan was here, before reminding that the quest was about to start.

“Trian and his men will clear the way for the Grey Wardens to descend into the easternmost caverns. Those caverns are still infested by the worst of darkspawn. We cannot risk our troop there,” he heard Lord Harrowmont say as soon as they all had gathered.

“Understood. We should be able to sense darkspawn and avoid them once open.” Duncan said to all.

“May the Paragons favor you, and Stone catch you, when you fall,” King Endrin blessed him.

Trian raised his maul and cried “Come, men. Glory awaits” as his troops cheered. Then he and Duncan and his Wardens marched away into the caverns.

Lord Harrowmont turned to Bhelen. “You and your men will second the king, clear the main road.”

Bhelen looked uncertain. “Don’t you think it looks a little cowardly to let these humans take our place when the fighting is thickest?”

“Are you questioning the battle plan?”

“Of course not, I’m sure your caution is for the glory of us all,” he replied tartly.

“Enough, Bhelen,” King Endrin boomed. “Take your men and make ready. Lord Harrowmont and I need to have words with your sibling.”

Bhelen sulked and mumbled “Of course Father”. Then he grudgingly wished Thorin good luck and was off with his troops.

Thorin watched him go. Typical for his baby brother to suggest something reckless. He never spent much time fighting darkspawn, so he doesn’t know that almost always a third of the troops die to wounds and the other third due to the Taint. And that’s just being lucky.

After the feast, he had words with him about his mistress, though it was not his business to know who his brother is sleeping with. Still Bhelen went too far when he allowed a casteless in the palace. He reminded him of his duty as a prince. Bhelen however, revealed that Trian was plotting for his death. Thorin was angry at him for thinking their brother would do something so dishonorable and Bhelen backed down.

Thorin sighed and thought that Bhelen really need to go away from their elder brother for a time, instead of being forced to hang on to him like a tail.

Harrowmont approached him. “Your father has a special mission for you.”The mission was to retrieve the sheild of Paragon Aeducan from an abandoned Thaig at the Eastern Deep Roads. A scout will be meeting him at the crossroads and another one further in. He was given a signet ring to open the door.

Thorin replied that he understood.

“May the ancestors watch over you, my child,” King Endrin said to him.

Thorin bowed to him, then turned and raised his axe, calling his men to arms. They cheered for him as they passed, until the passage rang with their shouts.


	12. Chapter 12

They had been ambushed by mercenaries, gotten the shield then fought through a darkspawn ambush. They were on the way back to the king when they reached a bend in the tunnel.

“My Lord,” his second called out to him.

Thorin held a hand to stop. “What is it, Gorim?”

Gorim stepped near him. He looked as alert as ever, but was clearly uncomfortable. He whispered “Up ahead would be a good site for an ambush if…”

“If Trian really wants to kill me you mean?” he whispered back.

"Forgive me my lord, but his behavior towards you lately shows that he perceives you as a threat to his claim. And the signet ring we found on the mercenary captain, he means to remove this threat…”

“By taking off my head?” Thorin turned away from him and looked ahead into the dark road. “Trian wouldn’t do that. We are brothers.”

“True. But there are stories about kin turning against kin. And you can’t ignore the ring.”

“Yes, the ring. I wonder about that. It looks like he gave it to them to open the door, so they could steal the shield and make me fail the mission to look foolish before my father. But now that they failed, Trian would kill me himself. Is that what you mean?”

“My Lord…”

“It’s possible, but it’s also possible the mercenaries might have gotten the ring by stealing…or looting it.” He released a breath. “Still, you have a point, Gorim.”

“What are you muttering about?” the scout asked them rudely.

Thorin look at the scout. “Stay alert. We might be expecting a fight.” The scout murmured his assent and backed away. Thorin turned to Gorim and whispered “Trian might be truly trying to kill me or he might have been killed already. So be ready.”

Cautiously, they walked on. When they reached a clearing, they found heaps of something on the floor. No, it wasn’t heaps, they were bodies.

“Trian!” Thorin called out in dread. He can recognize his brother’s gaudy armor anywhere. The dwarf readied his sword and ax and looked at Gorim to sweep the chamber for hidden enemies. When they came up empty, he ran to his brother’s side.

“Trian!” He stripped off the helmet and held a hand to the neck. No beats. The body was faintly warm, not stiff yet. The killers must have gotten away not an hour or two since.

Ivo said “It must be a darkspawn attack.” But the scout shook his head. “This doesn’t look like darkspawn. No bites, no scratches, no mutilation.”

“If the darkspawn did this, they would’ve still be here, eating the flesh. And they would have left their foul reek everywhere.” Thorin stood up, holding an arrow of dwarven make and said “This wasn't done by darkspawn. And judging from the wounds mostly at their back, they were taken unawares. And the blood's still fresh. This is done by dwarves and they had only left recently. ”

Gorim came near to him. “My Lord, what about your brother’s body?”

“Leave him. We can’t do anything for him now. But his killers have not gotten far ahead. We can catch them if we hurry. And Father would have to know about this.” He signaled them to go when they heard steps from the tunnel ahead.

“Father you have to see this. Trian is….” Bhelen saw Thorin and stopped in his tracks. So did the King, Lord Harrowmont and their retinue.

King Endrin looked at Trian’s body then at Thorin with his axe out and bathing in blood. “My son…tell me this isn’t what it looks like.”

“This isn’t what you think it is,” he replied.

“You killed our brother!” Bhelen pointed at him. “We caught you, red-handed and you still deny it!” he shouted

“I deny nothing! Trian was already dead when we got here,” Thorin shouted back.

“My Lord speaks the truth,” Gorim said.

Lord Harrowmont cut in. “Warrior Gorim, your loyalty makes you a useless witness. It falls to others to tell the story. You scout, what happened here?”

The scout moved forward, away from their reach. “Trian and his men were here early. It seems they’ve done battle with the darkspawn. Lord Aeducan came up to them, all friendly like and when we got close he…ordered us to attack.”

“He’s lying!”

“That’s enough, warrior,” Harrowmont shouted. Then he turned to Ivo. “Frandlin Ivo, you are a noble man. Your honor forbids you to lie. Did the scout speak the truth?”

Ivo looked at them nervously. “He…he did my lord. It was terrible. Lord Trian didn’t stand a chance. Afterwards, he stripped his signet ring.”

“You treacherous bastard!” Gorim drew his sword was about to gut the scout when Thorin shouted. “Gorim! Don’t make it worse.” Gorim looked at him and his stern look and a shake of his head told him to stay his hand. He obeyed and sheathed his sword unwillingly.

Endrin looked from the two witness then back at Thorin. “Do you have anything to say my son?” he asked, softly.

Thorin looked at all of them in the eye. “My Lords, please remember what we are. I am a noble, like you, and I follow the ways of the ancestors and the Paragons, like you do. I uphold the ancient ways and have fought for the defense of Orzammar more than my due and I dare anyone who would say otherwise. My own honor forbids me to slay my own brother and yet you believe I would do such an act of treachery?”

Most of his hearers looked uncomfortable questioning the honor of another noble, but others had no shame and looked directly at him.

“If you had doubts about my character, then so be it. I submit myself to the judgement of our ancestors.” He held his bloody ax aloft and then dropped it, along with his shield. 

Endrin closed his eyes while Harrowmont ordered the guards to bind his son and to take him to the Assembly. Thorin looked at his father as they bound ropes to his wrists. “I’m sorry, Father. I was too late.”

“As am I, my son.” Endrin replied, before turning away from them all. “As am I.”


	13. Chapter 13

Brosca woke up in the carta cell instead of the guardsroom and knew Beraht will be at the end of this story. Or his greatsword. Whichever comes first. He shook the whimpering Leske, who was thrown in the next cell as he deserved, the worthless nugshit. Leske had been busy with the betting, instead of making sure the dwarf Brosca’s pretending to be wouldn’t burst out the arena as he did.

They’ve killed their way to the main room, when they crept behind the barrels and heard Beraht swore at him and at his insolent hide. Then he talked about Rica. “I’m cutting the whore free. If that turncoat brother of his doesn’t know his place, then she doesn’t either.” His goons asked him if she was the pretty one and begged for the chance to be first on her. Beraht must have smiled at their eagerness and spread his hands as if he was showing them a great favor. “She’s yours if you want her boys. And let me tell you, she tastes as good as she looks.”

He can take any insult, but he can’t let even a small one pass when it concerned his sister. Before Leske could stop him, he showed himself to them and bellowed “Beraht!” The thug boss turned around and narrowed his eyes at him.

“So, you escaped your cage, did you duster? No matter, I can teach a lesson here as well as there when scum like you thought you can get the better of me. To me, men! Let’s teach this idiots a lesson!” He drew his blades as his minions shouted.

They were greatly outnumbered, but Brosca’s fury set energy to his swings and his greatsword cleaved dwarven heads or necks. The room was crowded with bodies and crates and barrels, making it hard to maneuver, and as they jostled, his sword made great sweeps of his enemies without him having to move too much.

Beraht swore under his breath and dodged before Brosca. He parried an attack by Leske, and ducked just in time before Brosca’s swing. The duster dwarf's swing was slow, perhaps weighed by his weapon, so he took his chance at an opening. He raised his dagger to bury it at the other’s unprotected neck.

Brosca knew he would be doing that so he waited and when Beraht did, he kicked his legs under him. The thug dwarf went sprawling, nearly bowing to him. Brosca showed that his slowness was a feint when he swiftly raised and sank the blade onto Beraht’s neck, severing the spine.

His goons looked at their boss’ rolling head, and their bravado turned to fear. They crowded to the exit and stumbled, tripping each other up, scrambling in their haste to get away from the mad dwarf. Brosca swept his sword at them, again and again until all of them were dead.

Brosca and Leske stepped over the bodies and opened the door. Their surprise was great when they found guards outside, surrounding the house. Sodding luck.

“If this is yer idea of a rescue, yer too late! Beraht’s dead,” Brosca yelled at them.

The guards were silent, shocked that the great underworld boss was dead. Then one of them, braver than the rest, said “How dare you speak before the shapers judged you. Drop your weapons and walk slowly.”

Stone curse him if he’s gonna go without a fight. He raised his weapon.

“One moment. We Grey Wardens search far and wide for someone to join our ranks. It seems I have found one.” A dark-skinned human interrupted. He was looking at Brosca.

“This man is a criminal. He impersonated a higher caste. He must die! You can’t do this” protested the guard captain.

“I can and I will. Let me make a formal offer. I, Duncan of the Grey Wardens, extend the invitation for you to join the order.” He was still looking at Brosca and ignoring the captain.

Brosca looked at the human, weighing his options “Grey Wardens? What do I get joinin ye?”

“A chance to avoid your life being wasted, to strike a blow against the darkspawn and the Blight.” He nodded to the guards. “But it would mean traveling to the surface lands and thus leaving your people.”

__Leaving Rica!_ _

__“__ I canna soddin do that! I gotta family!”

“Don’t be stupid, brother”

Rica was among the crowd gathered. She had tears in her eyes and he couldn’t bear to see that.

“What’re ye doin here?”

“I was worried. I heard what happened at the Proving and when I heard you’ve been taken by Beraht, I had to go here.”

“Yer crazy! I didna need rescuin.” He didn’t want to think about what Rica would offer to Beraht if he hadn’t been quick to get out.  

“That’s not the point. Go with the Wardens, brother.”

“I canna leave-”

“I’d rather have a living brother than a dead one! Even if I might never see him for a long time.” Rica was sobbing now. “Just listen to me, just this once.”

Brosca was silent, unwilling to leave them and yet not wanting to die, when Leske put a hand to his shoulder. “I got your family. I owe you my life and I would stand in your stead to your mother and sister.”

He looked at him then at Rica. “Will ye be alright?”

“Yes, yes, don’t worry about me. I…spent an afternoon with my patron. If everything works out…maybe…maybe if you come back, I can greet you as an equal.” She hugged him.

He does not want to go. What would happen to Rica if-no, the worst had already happened. He was there, and still, he failed her. He failed her because he had not acted as the brother she deserved. And he was sure he could never make it up to her by staying.

Perhaps then, it is best if he left, as she wished.

He finally pulled himself away from his sister to stand in front of the human. “Me sword is yours, Grey Warden.”


	14. Chapter 14

Thorin waited in his cell, his wrists bound behind him, wearing nothing but clothes made of sackcloth when the door at the entrance swung open.

“You’ve got ten minutes ser. Orders and all, you understand,” he heard a guard say to someone. He couldn’t see who was talking, as he’s not desperate enough to put his face past the bars and look to the corner. Soon he heard footsteps approaching. Thorin bowed his head, pretending to be asleep, while inside planning to use his head to butt the intruder if they meant to harm him. His wrists were bound tighly against him and he couldn’t put his arms past his legs if he tried. There was nothing in the cell to hit someone with.

The footsteps stopped in front of him and he recognized the boots.

“My Lord.”

Thorin’s head snapped up to see Gorim’s face. “Gorim? What are you doing here?” he asked, pleasantly surprised at the arrival of his second.

Gorim was happy to see him too. “I came to see how you are doing, My Lord. I would have come sooner had they allowed it. How are you?”

“I am well enough. At least, compared to Trian.”

Gorim smirked. “It’s good to see you are still able to rally, because I bring only bad news.” He looked at Thorin’s alert face and released a deep breath. “Bhelen has taken Trian’s place in the assembly. He introduced a motion to..condemn you. Immediately. And it passed”

“Bhelen? But why would he-” He saw Gorim’s face and he understood. “No. No. You were saying it was Bhelen who framed me?”

The answer was in the silence.

“Why? Why would he do that? We are brothers; why would he-?” Thorin knew Bhelen is ambitious if a bit lazy, but he remembered the way Bhelen’s face darkened when their father paid attention to either Trian or him. He knew that of the three of them, Bhelen is the least favored as he had neither Trian’s confidence nor Thorin’s skill in arms. Trian was revered because he was the heir, and Thorin was loved because of his wins in Provings and courtesy to all. Bhelen had only his wits and nothing else. It was easy for him to be overshadowed by his brothers, in their father’s eyes and to all of Orzammar. It must have galled him, to be always overlooked. Enough, it seems, to commit murder of one brother and treachery to the other.

Grim looked silently at Thorin’s bowed head, wondering what was worse: Trian’s death, or Bhelen’s betrayal.

“How had he convinced the lords to pass the motion?” his lord asked.

“Bhelen must have been making deals and alliances for years. My Lord, Bhelen…has played you. Has played all of us. He had half the assembly ready to vote on something completely against tradition and justice!” Gorim answered, his anger rising.

“It seems I was mistaken in the lords too,” he said bitterly, thinking of the nobles who had sold their own honor in exchange for profit. He was mistaken, in believing Lord Dace is an exception rather than the rule.

“Some of the lords, like Harrowmont, are suspicious of Bhelen’s rise and are trying to stop him. But they are rallying too slowly. The Assembly has already sentenced both of us.”

Thorin’s head snapped up. “Both of us? You too? What are they going to do to you?”

“My knighthood will be stripped, and my name torn from family records. I’m to attempt to have some sort of life…in the surface.”

Thorin looked at him and knew how Gorim felt about his pride being stripped from him. “I’m sorry, Gorim, for you being involved in this.”

“My Lord, I never regretted being bound to your service. Not even now that I am to be sent to surface.”

“It was an honor to have you, Gorim. I only wish that you find happiness in your new life.”   

Gorim crossed his arms and bowed. “Thank you, my lord.”

Thorin gave a small smile as Gorim raised himself up. “So, if your punishment is to live out your life in the surface, then what’s mine? What is my sentence?”

“Lord Harrowmont moved for a similar exile for you, but Bhelen’s supporters overwhelmed him. You are to be sealed in the Deep Roads to fight darkspawn until you are overwhelmed and killed.”

“I would have thought they would have me executed on the spot. Not be generous and give me a warrior’s death.”

 “My Lord, you don’t have to die. Lord Harrowmont gave me access to see you to tell you this: Duncan and the Grey Wardens are still in the Deep Roads. If you survive long enough to find the Grey Wardens, you may be able to escape with Duncan.”

Thorin was silent for a long time, before he spoke. “Why, Gorim? Why do I have to live on? The ancestors have decreed that all I have done is worth nothing and now I must not hope to be accepted by the Stone after my death. Everything I had done and endured, I did for Orzammar. What life could I have at the surface, when my heart is here? ”

Gorim was taken aback at his lord's candor. He rarely say what he deeply felt, never liking to dwell on emotional matters. But if this is to be their last meeting, he had to match it with one of his own. “My Lord, this sentence is a sham. This is Bhelen’s ploy and not the will of the ancestors. You and I know the truth.” Gorim moved closer and gripped the bars. “You were innocent. So live, live a blameless life. Prove to Bhelen, to all of them, that they were wrong to condemn you.”

Thorin only looked at him, before saying “Thank you, Gorim.”

“My Lord-”

They heard the rattling of the door.

“Our time is up. May the Paragons guide your sword and the Stone hold you up” Gorim said in haste.

“The same to you, my friend.”

“I will always be your man, Lord Aeducan.”

The guard was coming for them and they exchanged a final salute, knowing that this may be the last time they see each other. 

* * *

 

“Having been found guilty by fraticide by the Assembly of Orzammar, you are hereby sentenced to exile and death.”

Thorin barely heard Lord Harrowmont as he said that his name will be stripped from the records and he will be cast into the Deep Roads to fight darkspawn until he dies. He felt nothing at the prospect of his death. Because he was no longer a person, not even a memory.

“Do you have anything to say before the sentence is carried out?” Lord Harrowmont asked.

Thorin stared at him then said “Only to say I am innocent. I did not kill my brother and I will swear by it until my dying breath.”

Lord Harrowmont looked at him silently as the guards lowered their heads in shame hearing the sincerity in his voice.

“I believe you” Lord Harrowmont finally said. “That means Bhelen planned this from the start. I will spend the rest of my days making sure he will not profit from this.” He turned to a guard, who walked away and retrieved for him a sword and shield.

“Your father asked me to give these to you” the noble said, as he handed the weapons to Thorin. “The sword and shield are of dwarven make. Strike a blow at our enemies.”

Thorin only spared a glance at them and thanked Harrowmont.  “How is my father?” he asked.

“He is old, and this tragedy has hit him hard. He will rest better now, knowing the truth.”

“Please tell him, that I went to my death as a warrior.”

“I will.” Harrowmont turned to the guards. “Open the doors and let the condemned walk through.” When Thorin stepped out into the Deep Roads, he said “May the Stone accept you when you fall.”

Thorin did not turn around when the massive doors moved back.  He only did when it had swung shut.He looked at it, remembering the times he had almost died before it, and the people under his command who had died defending these doors and wondered if they felt regret. He shook his head to clear his thoughts. Whatever they might think, they will be remembered, but he will not. From this day forth, he was no one.   

He strapped the shield to his back and started to walk down the long dark road.

A soldier betrayed.


	15. Chapter 15

“That’s gonna be the last of ‘em” Brosca said as he hewed a genlock’s head off its neck with unnecessary force. The head bounced off the walls of the Deep Roads, black blood spurting from the severed neck, nearly getting in his mouth.

“Careful. You might catch the Taint,” commented one of the topsiders. Now his companions and brother-in-arms. He didn’t know what that felt. He wiped the blood off his face, careful that he did not accidentally drink it.

It’s been a crazy week. He thought him and his family are done for, but instead he gets to be a Grey Warden. __A Grey Warden.__ Imagine, a duster like him being honored like a Paragon. A casteless, a thug, a thief, a liar and a murderer, going to be at the same level with those nobles. Well it’s not like he was any less than them, as he beat their asses at the Proving and generally did the same criminal things he did, only they pay others to do it for them.  

Duncan only chuckled at them. “Feeling very excited at your new life, are you?” he asked the duster.

Brosca pointed at the genlock. “Got more of these up there in the surface?”

“Plenty, I assure you.”

He strapped his greatsword on his back. “Then lead the way then”, he said, smiling at them all.

They laughed at his enthusiasm. “At least someone’s enjoying themselves,” they said, being tired of stone walls and stifling air and continued on their journey.

Overall, he liked where he is now. Rica taken care of, Beraht dead, him going to be a Grey Warden. And plenty of fights to go around, which he is very good at. Why, the ancestors must be crazy. And he liked his companions even if they were topsiders. With Leske behind, no one would be watching his back. But it seems he didn’t have to, as unlike the Carta who would kill him if he so much show weakness or become lax, his companions watched out for him and protected him, treating him like one of their own. And they were no wimps in battle either, which earned them his respect.

They were walking on a long hall when a figure approached them from a tunnel on their right.

“Stop! Don’t come any closer,” warned one of his companions, pointing his sword at the newcomer who was dressed in ragtag armor and with one foot bare. The figure raised its arms in a gesture of surrender and slowly took off the helmet. “By the Maker, It’s a dwarf!”

“Not just any dwarf,” Duncan said as he recognized the face, dirty and unkempt. “Lord Aeducan? What are you doing here? Where are your troops?” If he was not sure who he was earlier, he was sure now by the wry smile of the stranger. “You should have stopped being formal with me. Because you see, I’m a lord no longer.”

“No longer…?Ah,” Duncan checked when he realized what it meant. “You have been made to walk the Deep Roads then.” He heard murmurings behind him, looked around and saw his companions getting too curious as to why a prince would be here alone. “We would not inquire further about your situation as matters of dwarven honor are any business of ours,” he said to Thorin but it was directed to his companions, who murmured mutinuosly at the loss of a great piece of news. “So what help would you need of us?”

“I wish to join your order, if you will have me.”

Duncan remembered the time he offered the same to him and how the dwarf had responded. “I imagine this isn’t what you had intended, but you will still find great honor here. As leader of the Grey Wardens I accept you into our order.”

“Thank you.”

Duncan turned towards his companions and told them to give him food and drink and also some armor that fit. “We leave immediately for Ostagar to join with human forces facing the darkspawn hordes, led by the king of Ferelden. Stay close. There are still darkspawn around every corner,” he informed him as the dwarf accepted some bread and ale. He signed to the others that they should rest for a moment.

Brosca looked at the dwarf who had sat down to eat. Typical that a noble should appear and ruin his good fortune.


	16. Chapter 16

“Neria…Neria..”

“Go away, Jowan,” she replied irritably, as she aimed a kick under the covers to where she thinks Jowan is. It seemed she aimed right, as she heard Jowan yelp. She put the covers up over her head but she felt his hands tugging at them.

“Please, Neria…it’s important and you’re the only one I can trust.”

So much for a good night’s sleep. Neria sat up and rubbed her eyes. “It better be good.”

Jowan, her only friend, stood over her, looking nervously at their dormitory. “I’m glad you’re back. They’ve taken you in the middle of the night and you took so long, I was worried.” Then he sat on the bed. “So, you’ve been Harrowed. What was it like?”

She rolled her eyes. “Ugh. If you’re so curios about it, go get harrowed yourself. Now get off and let me get some sleep.” She was about to pull her blankets underneath Jowan when he said  “I can’t. Get harrowed. I think.”

“Why not?”

Jowan looked sideways then leaned close to whisper. “I don’t think they will let me. I think they will make me Tranquil.”

That sent a shiver up her spine. If anything scares her, it was the walking dead named Tranquil. They look so creepy standing still, their eyes vacant, their voices eery without emotion, that she always wondered what made them like that. Something about them doesn’t feel right. And now, they’re going to do the same to her friend. She imagined Jowan as one of them, talking like an automaton, eyes still and vacant, voice dead and she shuddered.

“How can they do that?,” she asked him.

“They cut you off from the Fade, taking away your magical abilities, your dreams. It’s awful.”

Neria clutched the covers, her eyes burning with rage. “They won’t do that to you, Jowan. I won’t let them.”

Jowan smiled. "I’m glad you understand.”


	17. Chapter 17

“Neria, Jowan, this is Amadeus, a friend of mine. He can help us,” Lily said, introducing her friend to Jowan and Neria when they met at the corridor leading to the vaults. 

“Lily, this him?” Amadeus nodded at Jowan. She answered that yes, he’s the boyfriend she was talking about. Amadeus just folded his arms and gave Jowan a long cool look, then Neria. When he agreed to help, he didn’t expect them to have a brat tagging along.

Lily explained that Irving approved the Rite on Jowan. And if he didn’t escape now, he’d be Tranquil. Amadeus shook his head at their news. “I don’t see any difference if he was made Tranquil, what with the vacant eyes and the gaping mouth.”

“I’m not gaping!”

“Why are you being so mean right now?” Lily asked him.

“Because I assumed you had better taste, Lily! Ugh. I can’t believe we’re risking our lives for someone like him,” he said, pointing a finger at Jowan.

“Just get the door, please?”, Lily only asked, a hand to her forehead. 

They tested the door. Lily unlocked the door using the pilfered key. Amadeus  spoke the password and waved a shimmering hand at the door. The door swung open to reveal another door.

“I wasn’t expecting this,” Amadeus muttered. He walked forward and examined the door frames. There were magical wards around it that negates magic. He said a certain key could only open the door. “I assume some of you got the key?”

Silence

“This is going to be the worst escape attempt in the history of the Circle.”

Lily panicked. “I should have guessed! Why would Irving and Gregiore use simple keys for such a door? Because magical keys don’t work. How do you keep mages away from something? Make their powers completely worthless. That’s it then! We’re finished. We can’t get in,” she exclaimed in despair.

“What about that door?” Neria said, pointing at the other end of the corridor. Amadeus went and examined it, noting that it had no magical protection whatsoever. “Door’s locked,” he said.

“What do we do? What do we do?” Jowan cried, wringing his hands.

“I could use your head to bash it open,” came Amadeus’ reply.

“Bash open the door or my skull?”

“Why not both?”

“Amell!” Lily scolded.

Amadeus peered into the key hole. “It’s just a normal lock. Melt the pins and it’ll open.” He withdrew a rod of fire from his robes and started working on the lock.

“Where’d you get that?” Neria asked.

“From my ass, obviously.” She didn’t need to know about the stupid senior enchanter who let him, a junior mage, in a cave full of giant, venomous spiders because she’s afraid of them. If he had died, it would have been on her head. But he didn’t, for how else can he carry out all those wonderful treasures? All those powerful objects lying around, it’s basically begging him to take them. And that mage just signed the waiver for the rod, too relieved to notice that he’s bulkier than before. Blind as a bat.

“What does it do?”

“Open a door. And also, whipping a mage who asks too much.” He started to work on the door.

It opened but some statues lining the hallway came alive. They freaked out, but the corridor was long enough to fight in. He was mistaken with Neria, for she fought like a madcat, making short work of the statues with fire and ice. Jowan is not that bad either, if he stopped cringing before striking. He set to healing them before continuing to the next room.

They continued to hallways full of moving statues and phantom guards. Finally, they entered the last chamber, where they found a dog statue can amplify power. He found he can break through the storage at the other side by breaking the wall through the dog. He would have lingered to maybe nick a piece of the statue, but the others hurried on through the broken wall. They entered the chamber, where some more ghosts tried to stop them. They defeated them all and went forward to a stone table holding the phylacteries. Amadeus examined the bottles and found the right one, which he handed to Jowan. 

“That’s my phylactery. You found it. I can’t believe this little thing stands between me and my freedom,” Jowan examined the vial, too avid it was a bit creepy. “So fragile, so easy to get rid of-”

“Easy, unless you don’t count the broken wall, the moving statues, the creepy ghosts,” Amadeus commented.  

Jowan ignored him. “To end its hold over me…” He let go of the vial and it shattered into the stone floor. “ And I am free.”

The air in the chamber changed. Maybe it was just his imagination, but the breaking of the vial seems to have released a malevolent spirit in the room. He shrugged, believing it was just a draft from the broken wall playing tricks with his mind.  

“Let’s go. I don’t want to stay here longer,” Lily said and pulled Jowan out through the hole in the wall.


	18. Chapter 18

They were at the corridor when the first enchanter, the Knight Commander and his templars and some dark-skinned man came to meet them.

__Nice reception we got here._ _

“So what your informant said was true, Irving,” Gregoire said as he gave the signal for his templars to surround them. Then he looked at Lily, looking furious and a little betrayed at the chantry initiate. "An initiate, conspiring with a bloodmage. I’m disappointed, Lily.” To Irving, he observed "She seems shocked, but fully in control of her own mind. Not a thrall of the bloodmage, then. You were right, Irving. She has betrayed us. The Chantry will not let this go unpunished.”

"What bloodmage are you talking about?” Neria asked.

At this Gregoire turned his eyes on her. “This one, newly a mage and already flouting the rules of this Circle. I expected as much from you. It was a mistake to let you undergo the Harrowing.”

“Those rules were stupid anyway. As stupid as you,” she shot back.

Irving frowned and spoke to Neria _ _.__ “I’m disappointed in you. You could’ve told me of the plan and you didn’t."

Neria cried out. “You don’t care for us mages! You always suck up to that bitch Gregoire!”

“Enough!” the templar boomed. “As Knight -Commander, I hereby order this bloodmage to death. And this initiate scorned her vows so take her to Aeonar.”

Lily paled. “Aeonar…the mages’ prison…no…no…”  

That did it. Jowan slit his hand and cried out “No! I won’t let you touch her!” as he splashed the blood across the templars, burning them like acid. They screamed as they fell, clutching at their chests and face where the liquid had spattered.

“Lily, we have to get out of here! I can’t hold them for long!” Jowan cried out as he stared at the templars on the floor, writhing in their agony.No mention, of course, of Neria and Amadeus, leaving them to face the music. Lily however, backed away from him. “Blood magic, how could you…you said you never…”

Ah love. The great swindle.

Jowan held a bloody hand towards her, offering one last chance for her to change her mind. “I’m giving it all up. All magic. I just want to be with you, Lily. So take my hand and let’s get out of here.”

Lily, though, looked at him with horror and disgust. “I..I..don’t know who you are. Stay away from me, bloodmage.” Jowan looked at her, pleading with her to go with him, but the reinforcements arrived and they rushed at him. He summoned a cloud of blood at them, suffocating them. When the cloud dispersed, he was also gone.

Gregoire was enraged, frothing at the mouth. “If you had let me act this sooner, this could not have happened! Now, we have blood mage on the loose and no way to track him down!” he shouted to Irving.

Lily stepped forward. “I was wrong…I’m an accomplice of a bloodmage…I will go where you will me to…even Aonar.” But Gregoire ignored her and turned to the two mages. “You! And you! You shall pay for this! Take them to prison.”

“First Enchanter, I did as you said,” Amadeus said quietly to Irving, as the templars moved to restrain them. He hadn't counted on Jowan being a bloodmage, but instead believed that he just wanted to escape, like so many others. 

Lily and Neria looked at him in shock. Finally, Lily recovered. “You….sold us out?”

“Do you actually think I would help that bloodmage escape by doing something so loud as exploding a wall?”

Lily was aghast. “How could you?”

Amadeus stood silent. He felt no need to explain to her. It was more important that he let the templars think he was doing his duty as a loyal mage of the Circle. So he answered “You were working with a bloodmage. I did what I had to do.”

Lily shook her head, as if trying to shake his words out, and said “I thought you were my friend.”

“You thought I was your pet!” Anger crept to his words, unbidden. “An object to show to anyone watching how good and kind you are, to prove the Chantry is good and merciful towards mages! That they were right to rob us of our freedom! You saw how much I suffer for that, and yet you never thought it was wrong until a bloodmage came along and swindled you with promises of love. And even then, you were only doing it not because it was right, but because it gives something back to you.”

He walked forward to her. “How could I do this? How could you? You, and everyone of your kind, is always preaching about kindness and caring and yet, when Gregiore or the other templars beat down a mage, you look the other way!”

The templars were about to object to that but he did not let them. “You speak of praying for the souls of those who did not survive their Harrowing, and yet, when another mage gets taken and comes back Tranquil or dead, you do nothing. You see how we are degraded and humiliated everyday, and still you stood by and you. Do. Nothing. And you ask me why I did this?”

Lily looked at him, hurt, and said softly “I never thought you hated me this much.”

He turned away, his face like stone. “As I’ve said, you never really want to know me. I was just someone you need to practice Chantry teachings on.”

“I’m sorry, for everything. If I had known-”

“Keep those platitudes to yourself. We both know you don’t really know what you’re preaching.”

They finally fell silent. Neria, meanwhile, had her anger simmering while they were talking until it rose to red-hot rage. “You snitch!” she hissed and flew at Amadeus, ready to box him. The templars however, blocked her way, stopping her in her tracks. She whipped out her staff to fight her way through, when Irving shouted at her. “Put your staff away. Do not make it worse!”

“The hell I will. I’m going to kill him!” she raised her staff. The templars raised their swords.

Irving put a paralysis glyph on her feet. She stood, frozen, her eyes burning as she glared at him. Gregoire nodded to his templars and they took her staff away and bound her arms behind her as she stood motionless. Then he turned to Amadeus.

“You helped a bloodmage escape,” Gregoire spat at him.

“I did not. I did what I was ordered to do,” he answered, calmly, trying to show the templars that he was no threat, nevermind that he accused them of cruelty right in front of them. He had not meant to show his temper that way, but seeing Lily, looking at him with hurt and betrayal, he couldn't stop it. She has no right to feel hurt and betrayed, when she is a participant in the system that supports their oppression.

But Gregoire shook his head. “You were not ordered to do anything. Take them three to the cells.”

“You can’t do this!” Amadeus turned to the first enchanter.  “You promised, Irving. You promised I could go to Kirkwall if I do this!”

“Lies. Why would the first enchanter promise that? Abetting a blood mage, that is unthinkable! You are saying that the corruption had reached to the highest level of the Circle! And right under my nose! Nothing gets past me.” The Knight-Commander turned to Irving, his hand on the hilt of his sword, his eyes dangerously close to murder. “Did he really took an order from you?” All the templars stared at the First Enchanter.

Irving took a moment to answer.

“No.”

Amadeus reeled. He thought he could go to back home, after all this years. Years and years of drudgery and loneliness and abuse and insults, all of them nothing because an old man wouldn’t honor his word.

He was still stunned to silence, even when the dark man stepped in and began arguing back and forth with the Knight Commander.

He doesn’t care. He couldn’t care. Not if all his dreams were falling all around him, like ashes.

“I invoke the Right of Conscription, to both of them,” the dark man said. They argued back and forth again, until finally Gregoire stood down and let them go. As they were being led out of the tower, the man said “Come, your new life awaits.”

If it wasn’t of his choice, what life was that?


	19. Chapter 19

They were outside The Spoiled Princess, which seems to be a tavern for topsiders. Inn, they call it. They waited for Duncan as he went into the tower across the lake to conscript mages. Meanwhile, he was taking this opportunity to get used to the surface world. Stone knows it doesn’t make sense.

He looked to where the other dwarf was and saw that he was just as bewildered as him. It seems better this way, as before they emerged from the underground, the duster took him aside and said “Just so ye know, when we’re up there, am not gonna kiss yer ass or take any shit from noble like ye.”

He leveled his gaze at the duster. “Duly noted” he said simply, noting that he is going to be trouble. As his kind always is. But he wouldn’t condescend to brawl with him, under Duncan’s nose.

He shielded his eyes and looked towards the lake, where a dark figure was approaching the docks. As he thought, it was Duncan, with two mages in tow. Two sullen mages who appears to be fighting with Duncan looking harried. As they approached he heard the girl shouting.

“I should’ve pushed you and let you drown!” the girl screamed at the mage at the other side of Duncan.

“I said stop it,” Duncan said, leading them by the wrists.

The girl was about to say something when she noticed them. “Who’re you?” she asked him, in a curious voice, as if she hadn’t been shouting the minute before.

Thorin stepped forward and bowed. “Nice to meet you. My name is Thorin. I am a dwarf.”

“What’s a dwarf?” she asked, peering at him.

“Your new companion,” Duncan answered for him. “Everyone, this is Neria Surana and Amadeus Amell, new recruits from the Circle of Magi.”

They all looked at the two and was not very impressed. “We’re taking kids now?” asked one of the Wardens.

“Who’re you calling a kid?” the girl snarled, her eyes blazing.

“That’s you, of course, since you’re blind as well as stupid,” the boy replied.

“I said stop it! Don’t make me regret taking you out of there,” Duncan shouted, struggling to stop Neria from punching the other mage.

As they were finally settled and traveling, one of the wardens looked at them and then the mages. “This is going to be a long journey," he said.


	20. Chapter 20

And so to Ostagar, a ruined fortress deep in the Korcari Wilds. The building was once beautiful, a structure of graceful arches and white stone which had crumbled into rubble and overgrown with weeds. And now this relic of past glory is going to serve as a bulwark against the incursion of the darkspawn from the untamed lands, the field which the forces of good ultimately triumph against evil. Maybe.

The party was a solemn one as they were too tired by their journey to quarrel. As they walked, Duncan explained to the other recruits a little bit of information about the Blight, the Wardens and their role in ending it.

Unexpectedly, they were greeted by none other than a king. "Ho there, Duncan!" the King of Ferelden called to the warden as he walked towards them.

King Cailan was a handsome, tall man with bright gold hair and light blue eyes, with the charm of the Theirins and the martial skill to boot. Unfortunately, being made king in boyhood had somewhat spoiled his gifts. Easy, when he has a court that is utterly devoted to his whims.

The glorious manchild-ermm, sorry, His Majesty, the King-received Duncan warmly.

"King Cailan? I didn't expect --" Duncan began but the king cut him off.

"A royal welcome? I was beginning to worry you'd miss all the fun!" he said, grinning.

"Not if I could help it, YourMajesty."

His reply made Cailan even happier. "Then I'll have the mighty Duncan at my side in battle after all! Glorious!" he said, while making grand gestures. Then he noticed them. "The other Wardens told me you've found some promising recruits. I take it these are them?" he asked, looking at them like a child would when presented with toys collected for his amusement.

Duncan motioned for the recruits to come forward. "Allow me to introduce you, your Majesty."

The king waved him aside. "No need to be so formal, Duncan. We'll be shedding blood together, after all. Ho there, friends! Might I know your names?" he greeted to them.

Thoin stepped forward and bowed. "I am Thorin, your Majesty. And this is..” he trailed off, turning to the casteless.

“Brosca,” the duster replied gruffly.

Cailan was too good humoured to take offense at his rudeness. "It's good to see some of the honorable stout folk outside Orzammar," he answered, graciously. The duster snorted, while Duncan and Thorin shifted imperceptibly. Not too much, as the king noticed their reactions and smiled like a hunter on a scent. "Sounds like there's a story behind that. You must regale me with it sometime."

"If your Majesty wishes," Thorin answered for them all.

"I do! I'll make sure to have the finest dwarven brew brought up from the palace cellars. After we've dealt with the Blight, of course. I've been to Orzammar. King

Endrin invited my father to a Grand Proving, long ago. How does Endrin fare these days?"

"The king was fine when I saw him last," he replied, feeling Duncan’s gaze burn behind his back. Fortunately, the king took no more thought of it, only saying well wishes for the dwarven king’s health before paying his attention to the mages. Fortunately, the girl displayed none of her attitude and only said her name gravely even when the king called her little girl. That is, before she said to him ‘You’re so shiny,” which made him laugh. The boy surprisingly gave a graceful bow. Impressive, for a tower inmate.  

They chatted for a while, for the king was a jovial fellow, except when he expressed his doubts about this not being a true Blight. He pouted when it appears he might not get to be a dashing, warrior king without the Archdemon to slay. If it just stops being shy, show its blighted face and impale itself on his sword due to his sheer awesomeness, that would be great.

Finally, they took leave of the king and were walking on the bridge to the main camp, when Duncan said “What the king is true. They have won several battles against the darkspawn here.”

“So that is why he doesn’t seem to take this very seriously,” Thorin commented. He understands that a string of victories can lull people into complacency.

Duncan replied that even with these victories, the number of darkspawn still grew. And he couldn’t tell the king to act solely on his instinct.

“Why not? He seems to trust you.”

 “I could not say that to him without revealing how I can be sure of it.”

“This one of your Warden secrets?”

Duncan only gave him a small smile. It really is one of their secrets. During joint campaigns with the Wardens, he observed they were more adept at finding out where darkspawn are, even without scouting beforehand. He wished they were less secretive about this, as he could’ve saved some of his men if they had shared their secret of tracking darkspawn.

“So what would you have him do then?”

“Wait for reinforcements. We sent a call west to the Grey Wardens of Orlais but it will be many days before they can join us. Our numbers in Ferelden are too few. We must do what we can and look to Teyrn Loghain to make up the difference.” They reached the end of the bridge.

“To that end, we should proceed to the Joining Ritual without delay.” Duncan announced.

“What ritual?” Neria asked. Duncan explained it is some secret ritual every recruit must undergo. He also said that they are free to explore the camp, as they waited for other recruits.

They all watched him go, the Warden’s figure being lost among all the people and tents in here. Suddenly, a light flashed from far off above and he looked at it, wondering what it means when they heard a rumbling sound, like-like before a cave in! He yelled and looked frantically for something sturdy he could take cover under, when water came pouring down and drenched him. Then he noticed the two mages staring at him as if he were mad.

“It’s only water. We call it rain,” the boy explained, his hair dripping.

He looked around and saw other people just going on their business or huddled in the tents. All of them looked annoyed, but not fearing for their lives. Then he saw the other dwarf, who had overturned a barrel to stuff himself under it. Their eyes met.

“Where the soddin fuck are we?” the duster asked.


	21. Chapter 21

This is it. She had Tamlen as a partner in watch duty again, and she had thought about it long enough. This is the day she was going to tell Tamlen her answer. At Tamlen's back, she clasped her hands, rubbing them to warm them against the morning chill and said a quick prayer. "Tamlen, I had something to tell you," she finally had the courage to say. Tamlen though, was still and looking at something.

"Not the time, lethallin," he answered. She frowned, puzzled then she looked at where Tamlen was looking. 

They just had to have an audience.

“Humans hiding in the bushes. Bandits, no doubt,” Tamlen whispered, aiming his bow. A trio of those had indeed been hiding in the bushes. On his signal, she and Tamlen burst out their hiding place, weapons ready.  The humans jumped back, startled, and raised their hands in surrender. 

“We’ve never done anything to you Dalish,” the humans protested to the elves.

“Yes you have. You have wandered too close to our camp,” Tamlen said, his arrow still aimed at the boldest of them.

“We didn’t mean to. We have just come from a cave.”

“And what are you doing in there? Spying?”

“No, we didn’t dare. We did’nt even know the Dalish are nearby.”

“That is because you know nothing. Speak quickly! What are you doing in that cave?”

“It’s not a cave, it’s some ruin. We thought there were…. treasure”

“Treasure? Preposterous. There is no treasure.” He drew the string tighter.

“Wait! I have proof!” One of them reached into his pockets and produced a stone tablet. “We found this in the entrance.” Tamlen glanced at Mahariel, her arrow still aimed at the humans, and lowered his bow. With a wary look, he snatched the trinket out the human’s hands and examined it.

“Is this..elfish?Written in the language of our people?” Tamlen looked at the tablet in wonder.

“There’s more..in the ruins.” The human looked at them, still afraid, but there was also hunger in his eyes. “We..didn’t get very far.”

“And why not?”

“There was a demon. It was huge, with black eyes! Thank the Maker we were able to outrun it.”

“Where is this cave?”

They gave out the directions to it.

“Let us live, alright?” the human pleaded to them.

Tamlen looked at her. “Well, do you trust them? Shall we let them go?

Mahariel looked at the humans. __Thieves.__  If this cave is true, then they have plundered what they have no right to have. Just as they have done for hundreds of years, since they arrived. And if they were let go, they would go to their own people and raise them up and drive them out, so their kind can steal what should have been rightfully theirs. Just as they have always done, all the way back from the days of Arlathan.

There is only one way to deal with humans.

“Kill them all,” she said, letting go of the arrow.  


	22. Chapter 22

She woke up within an aravel. It was unfamiliar at first but then she remembered. _Tamlen-thecave-theruins-therottedbereskarn-undead-mirror-demons-mirror-Tamlen!_

“You are awake, Lethallin. Praise the creators. I thought I have lost you too.”

She looked up to Merril’s face, her delicate little hands on her face. Merrill's face was tinted red from the light that shone through the aravel’s cloths. She let her hands travel to Merril’s fingers and squeezed.

“I am well enough. What-” she rose up from the pallet and looked around the keeper’s hut,"-has happened?”

“Oh, Mahariel. We thought you were lost. A human has brought you here -a big human, with very thick hair on his chin, a squirrel have got hold of his jaw-and Marethari made him put you here and tended to you for two days and I didn’t know what to do, I was so worried. Marethari told me to prepare a poultice but I’m so nervous I have put deathroot in there instead of elfroot-they’re the same I couldn’t tell the difference, their leaves are the same, long, green. Well, one of them gives uncontrollable shaking and delirious-I’m rambling again. It was real-ly lucky, Marethari was using old magic to heal you but when she asked for the poultice she knew right away I’ve made a mistake, she scolded me so badly and I haven’t seen Tamlen. Have you?”

Mahariel rubbed her head at the deluge of information. She remembered the ruins, how she and Tamlen have stared in wonder at the elvish artefacts, though it bothered them that it was intertwined with designs unmistakably human. Tamlen said it reminded him of Tevinter, a far away place where human mages rule over the elves. They had fought undead, and though it was terrifying, that did not compare to the feeling of walking again at a place of their people. She wished Merril was there, she was always so interested in ancient history, but it’s just as well she didn’t come, because at the last room, they found a strange mirror. They were so heady with happiness, they didn’t think anything more can hurt them, when Tamlen touched it and a dreadful aura emanated from the mirror and then she remembered no more. She thought she heard Tamlen calling for her name as she fell.

“Has anyone been sent to find Tamlen?”

“Some of the hunters had left, though one of them returned and said he couldn’t find the cave. I thought it very strange, he’s Dalish and a Hunter, isn’t he? He should have found the cave since the human found you there.”

“You say I have been brought here by a human?”  she asked, a crease between her brow.

“Don’t look like that. He was very nice, if he had’nt been there you would have died. Or so he said. I think that’s what he said.”

“Who is he?”

“He says he’s a Grey Warden. Marethari said-Oh! She said to fetch her when you wake up,” she scurried away before Mahariel had any chance to ask her another question.

She returned with the Keeper and she sent Merril away to fetch some herbs. When she was gone, Marethari knelt in front of her and peered at her. Satisfied, she sat back at her heels. “I see you are awake, da’len. It is fortunate Duncan found you when he did.”

“What had sickened me?”

“A dark power I know not what, but it nearly bled the life from you. It was difficult even for my magic to keep you alive.”

“Thank you, Keeper, for your care.”

She nodded. Then she asked Mahariel about what happened at the cave and Mahariel recounted the walking corpses and strange monsters, and the mirror. Marethari revealed that the human went back to the cave to search for darkspawn. Then she asked her if she will show the way to the cave to find Tamlen or his body and to take Merril and other hunters if she wished.

Mahariel donned her armor and fetched her bow and arrow, thinking that Merril would finally see the elvish ruins and be enraptured too. But without Tamlen, the joy of witnessing their history felt hollow.


	23. Chapter 23

Mahariel felt like dying. They did not find Tamlen at the cave. Worse, she had to leave the clan. The human they met at the ruins has talked with Marethari, said that if she stayed here, she will die. Only joining their order will give her a chance to survive the rot in her veins. But if she left, she will also die. For how can a Dalish bear to live in a world of humans?

“Please do not cast me out, I beg you,” she said to the keeper. She never cried, but she did so now. “This is my home-I cannot go-I can’t leave-please do not ask this of me,” she sobbed.

Marethari looked sadly at the young huntress. “I know, it is always sad to leave your family and friends, the home that you’ve ever known. But we also love you da’len, and we do not wish to see you die just as we lost Tamlen. We will mourn your loss, but we will be comforted that you are still among the living, even if we may never see you again.”

“Not see me again? Why? Will the shemlen not allow me to see you?”

“There were humans who had found some of their own, dead and they blame us for it. They seek to drive us out of here.”

“Then we fight. Why should we flee because of them?”

“We don’t want a quarrel with them. They are stronger and more powerful than us and we have only lived free because we did not try to provoke them. And so we must go.” She looked at Mahariel in the eye and she knew that she knew that the blame was hers. She did not reproach her, however. “And you must go to the Grey Wardens.”

“I will go to the grave first. You are asking me to live my life among strangers, without the comfort of the hahren’s songs, without the guidance of a keeper, without the fellowship of a clan. Like a babe, abandoned and lost in the woods. No, I cannot bear it. I-I have lived as a Dalish and I will die as one. I have no home but here, among you. If you go and I go to them-no, it is better, that I die here than live where I have no place among them.”

“Dalen, listen to me.” She held Mahariel. “Think of Merril and Ashalle. What would they feel, if you died.”

She was silent.

“You must live, for them, for us, for all of the Dalish. Be strong. We are Dalish, walkers of the lonely path. Your journey will be long and full of grief, but you will find your place even in their world. Even if your fate is sundered from the clan’s," the keeper answered, before putting her arms around Mahariel and hugged her.

It took a long time for the huntress to answer. “Very well, Keeper. I shall make you and our clan proud," she said, breaking away from the keeper's embrace. "But may I stay, for Tamlen’s funeral?”

The keeper granted her wish.

Later that night, as they planted a seedling in Tamlen’s memory, and Haren Paivel led the mournful dirge, she felt like it was her funeral too.


	24. Chapter 24

If someone is pressed to describe Tabris, they would be at a loss for words. See, the fellow is not very eye-catching, except that he was unusually tall for his kind, as tall as an average human. He was plain-looking, his pale green eyes and even paler hair is not anything but….drab. But ask around the Alienage, and they always say this of him: keen of wits, and silver of tongue. Unless, of course, if he’s talking to pretty women. Then he’s slow of wits and leaden of tongue.

Though that can’t be seen right now, as that charming fellow is asleep when an elf girl pounced on him with a pillow.

  
“Holy Andraste! Shianni, stop doing that. I’m having a wonderful dream,” he said, sitting up from his bed and fending off his cousin’s assault.

“What dream?” said the girl.

“That you stopped doing that and let me get some sleep.”

She punched him in the arm. “Well, I’m not going to stop doing it if you’re always snoring til noon. And besides, don’t you know what it is today?”

“By your breath? Your favorite. Get drunk til noon day.”

She punched him again. “No silly, you’re getting married.”

“I’m getting married? I’m getting married.” He bolted from the bed and put on his slippers.

Shianni laughed. “That’s the spirit. You’ll be needing it, because there’s going to be music, dancing, feasting-”

“And also drinking,” he said, winking at her.

“Yeah, alright. So get going fast and meet Soris outside.” She left him to dress and went to prepare for the feast.

Minutes later, he was dressed and ready to go. He bounded to the kitchen, where his father sat in a chair, trying to look as calm as possible when his only child would be living a different life from now on.

“Morning Dad.”

“Good morning son. It’s your big day.” They made small talk as the younger elf sat and ate some breakfast. At the lull of their conversation, his father said “I wish your mother is here.” His son looked at him, looked at the face that was still wistful for a wife who will never come home.

“Me too. She might have hauled me out of bed sooner.”

“Yes she would have. She would have scolded you and you would have yelled at her as if you’re still ten years old.”

“And she would have pinched my ears and wonder very loudly how come she has a bad-mannered child like me.”

“Just so.”

“And you would have just sat there and said nothing.”

“Well, she would have pinched my ears too if I said anything.”

“Thanks a lot, Dad.”

They laughed at the recollection of the spirited elf woman who had been the light of their lives.  

“Dad?”

“Yes?”

“How was it like…when you married Mom?”

His father put down his mug and studied his son. Beneath the veneer of nonchalance, he saw his son was anxious as he was when he was also about to be married to a stranger.

He told him when they first married, they didn’t get along. He thought she was stubborn, too spirited while she thought him too meek and too unambitious to make his life better. There had been quarrels, and there had been problems. But through these, they knew each other’s faults, as well as their strengths. Respect came, and then love. From that, happiness. Their marriage turned out well, because despite their personal differences, they never forgot that the other has a right to be treated with respect as much as they have.

So basically, be a decent man and hope for the best.

“So don’t worry if you might not like your wife at first. Just be the husband that you should be.”

His son thought for a moment, then thanked him.

 “So, what do I do?” Tabris asked as he popped the last piece of rye bread and sipped his weak tea.

“Find Soris. And one last thing. Your training, the swordplay, knives, whatever else your mother trained you in; don’t tell your bethroted.”

“Why not? She might find it kinky.”

“Do not tell her.”

“Not even a hint? No?”

His father just stared at him.

“Fine.”

“We don’t want trouble, son. That was your mother’s mistake.”

Tabris knew this. His mother, Adaia, was fiery and bold. Perhaps too bold, because when a riot broke out in the alienage due to another unfair restrictions of the arl, Adaia was at the forefront of it. She protested that it was unjust of the arl to impose a curfew on them as some of them were working until late at night and making them go home early would not let them earn enough to feed their families. The arl’s guards thought to pacify the elves by starting with her. They ran a sword through her and she died a week later because they could not afford a healer. Also, the guards wouldn’t allow them in even if they could find one willing to save her on charity.

This doesn’t mean he would allow sad memories to affect the present. “It’s my wedding, father. We’re supposed to be happy.”

His father embraced him. “I know, son. I know. I'm sorry.” He released him but his hands remained on his son's arms gently. “Enjoy your day. Moments like this should always be meant to last.”


	25. Chapter 25

“Well, if it isn’t my lucky cousin. Care to celebrate the end of our independence?” Soris, his cousin, was leaning on the post of his house, cleaning his nails as he waited.

“Speak for yourself. Me, I’m just glad I’m not stuck with you forever,” Tabris replied, trying to straigthen a crease in his wedding tunic.

Soris laughed for a while and then looked sadly at the ground. “I heard your bride’s dream come true. Mine looks like a dying mouse.”

“Well I know now what to give you as wedding present.”

“What?”

“A cage.”

“You’re so mean. And on my wedding day too. Alright, let’s go see your bride. She has a couple inches and years than you do,” he said, to playfully get back at him. 

“It couldn't be worse for her. At least she's not ending up with you. Everyone knows I'm the prettier cousin. ”

“Ha! When she sees you, she’ll run to the Dalish.”

“Then I’ll just have to run after her.”

They reached the clearing where they saw Shianni with two other elven women. Their cousin was being accosted by one of the humans, while her companions trembled behind her.

“It’s a party isn’t it? Grab a whore and let’s have a good time.” The human reached out to grab Shianni but she stepped out of his reach.

“Touch me and I’ll gut you like a pig!” Shianni shouted at him.

Tabris started towards them but Soris stopped him. “We shouldn’t get involved,” his cousin said quietly, holding on to his wrist.

“Are you insane? We are already involved. That’s our cousin right there.” He let go of the hand.

“Who’s this?” asked the human , bleary with drink, as Tarbis came near.

“No one you can remember. At least, not with that head of yours.”

“Do you know who I am?” the human growled.

“See? That’s what I’m talking about. You don’t even remember your own name.”

The human started to move menacingly towards him when he suddenly dropped to the ground. Shianni was holding a broken bottle behind him.

“Are you mad? He’s Vaughan Urien, son of the arl of Denerim,” one of the human’s companions hissed. The elves stared at him. 

“Oh Maker,” Shianni moaned and covered her face. Tabris looked at Shianni, then at the human sprawled on the ground then back at the human's companions.  “Well, since he’s asleep, I suggest you carry him to bed. And if you don’t mention this, we won’t mention this,” Tabris said to them.

They were already surrounded by elves, craning their necks to look at the prone human and whispering among themselves. The humans thought twice about their chances and decided to carry the arl’s son home. As they passed the cousins, one of them sneered at Tabris. “You’ve got a lot of nerve. It’ll go badly for you” he warned.


	26. Chapter 26

It was really his lucky day. He finally saw his bride and almost kissed Valendrian’s feet for making such a good match, but he knew the elder will only kick him off. And his feet are really dirty.

His bride was really beautiful, and she was more than he could hope for. He ignored the nagging feeling that she wouldn't feel the same way about him. It's not his fault he was born with a plain face. Whatever deficiency he had in appearance he'll be sure to make up for it with.....with.......oh, fuck it, he'll make up for it with something.

He was still grinning from ear to ear as Valendrian and later the Mother said the ceremonial words to bind them as husband and wife. But before she finished, an armored party climbed up the platform to where they were.

Vaughan had returned.

He was sober now and looked at them all with malice. He shoved the Mother aside, and said loudly “We’re here for a good time, aren’t we boys? Take those two, the one in the tight dress and…where’s that bitch that bottled me?” he asked, looking around, as humans started grabbing elf women left and right, the celebrants scrambling, screaming in panic and fear.

“Over here, Lord Vaughan!” said one of the humans, holding Shianni’s arm out as she struggled from his grasp.

“Let me go you son of a-”

“Oh, I’ll enjoy taming her. And I see the bride’s pretty,” Vaughan said, leering at Tabris’s bride.

“What do we do?” asked Soris.

“Not let them take the women?” Tabris answered, pushing his bride behind him.

Vaughan saw that and finally noticed him. "Ah yes, the uppity runt who dares speak to me. Don’t worry, I’ll return whatever’s left in time for the honeymoon.”

“Now that’s just-”

 

* * *

Tabris woke up with a bleeding headache.

“Can you hear me, Cousin? Are you alright?” Soris asked him, worried. 

 He sat up and looked around the near empty platform, hearing the muted crying and knew that the place is missing some people.

“Where are the women?” he asked, massaging the place on his jaw where Vaughan had hit.

Soris told him they were all taken back to the arl’s place.

At some distance, Valendrian was talking to the crowd, trying to calm them.

“They took my sister!” said one. The others also demanded answers from the elder. 

“Where are the guards?”

“What are we going to do about it?”

“What if they returned?”

“We could sneak in and save them. There’s a servant entrance. The humans won’t ask a pair of elves looking around.”

“Are you stupid? The place will still be guarded. If you’re caught, you won’t be able to talk yourself out.”

Valendrian raised his voice louder. “Calm down, everyone. Denerim abides with the king’s law, and so are we. And so will the arl’s son. We must trust in the authorities to bring our women back. We will take this to the guards.” A storm of dissent had broken out from his words, shouting that the guards are more likely to hinder than help them. Almost everyone of them recounted how they asked for help from the guards, but they only met at best indifference, at most scorn.

“Come on, let’s go,” Tabris said to Soris. “The longer they yammer about, the longer the women would be with that swine.”  

“Where are we going?”

“You heard Valendrian. We’re going to report this to the authorities.”

“Are you insane? The guards never help elves. Besides, they might take his side.”

“It doesn’t hurt to try.”

It took a long time to convince the guards to let them talk to them. And even longer to convince them to take action. The guard captain finally had to come and talk with them. When he did emerge from his office, he was in a bad mood, his face greasy from sleep, his shirt creased, his eyes bloodshot. When he heard that the arl’s son had taken the women, he scoffed.

“If the Arl’s son need another pair of elf hands, then he gets a pair. Now, be off with you,” he said gruffly. He knew he shouldn't have drank a bottle more than his usual the night before and his head is swimming. And these elves yelling loudly aren't helping. 

“You don’t understand. He…he might do something to them…like..”

“Like what, boy?” The captain looked Tabris straight in the face. “You think the arl’s son is like you? Don’t think I don’t know you. You’ve spent some time in our dungeons far too many times for my liking. Thieves, pickpockets, stealing from honest folk. As all you lot. Rats!” He spat at the ground. “Lazy, whining and stupid. Doing dishonest work, only good for mischief. Always trouble. You should be on your knees, thanking the arl that he still finds you useful instead of carting you all out of here as you deserve. Now be off, I say, or I should throw you in the dungeons for disturbing the king’s peace!” He turned on his heel and slammed the door close.

“What do we do now?” asked Soris as they walked back towards the alienage.

Tabris thought for a moment, his eyes cold with rage. No way was he going to leave his cousin and his bride in that swine’s dungeons.

“It’s time for trouble then.”


	27. Chapter 27

They found the servant’s entrance to the arl's estate and sneaked in. The place was curiously empty, just some guards here and there. They dressed as servants, with mops and buckets, and the guards left them alone. To them, all elves look the same. Lazy and stupid, only good for kitchen and cleaning duty.

Tabris and Soris tiptoed along the corridor, listening for human footsteps. They couldn’t hear much of what was passing inside the rooms, as the walls were thick and made of stone.

“This is weird. The guards are few today,” Tabris said as he picked a lock to a door.

“I heard the arl had gone south with half of them. Some sort of war or something. Probably the Orlesians stirring trouble along the border,” Soris answered as he looked out for guards or genuine servants who might bust them. 

“Maybe that’s why Vaughan felt brave to get out of his hole today.” Tabris finally picked it open and found an armory. He let Soris have daggers too, as they could not have hidden sword or shield while maintaining their cover as servants. He picked another room and found a dead elf woman.

Soris looked at the body and recognized their neighbor. “They…killed her. Nola. I…can’t believe this.”

Tabris uttered a quick prayer for her before taking Soris away. “We should hurry then and save the others.”

After perhaps a lifetime of sneaking around, they finally found Vaughan and his men.

They were lolling about, stupid with drink, with Shianni at the center of the room, sobbing, her clothing in shreds. They entered quietly and bolted the door.

“My..my, what have we here?” the noble drawled when he noticed the intruders. He stood up and staggered forward to them.

“You took our women. I’m going to take them back,” Tabris said to him, his voice low with cold rage. He scanned the room and saw that the door behind them was the only exit.

Vaughan raised an eyebrow and turned towards his companions. “Look at this, the little knife ear. Take them back, he says? Well, boy, no one takes anything from Lord Vaughan. See here mates, how I teach uppity elves their place.”

He swung a fist at Tabris but unfortunately for him, it was shaky from drink and Tabris remembered how he got floored back at the platform. A trick never works twice.

He evaded the fist and swung his own on the unprotected ribs. A grunt and Vaughan went down. The other humans tried to stand up, alarm creeping at their face, but their feet were made of jelly.

“Nobody move. I’m just here to take back our people.” __Please don’t fight back.__

Of course, someone had to move. One of the humans opened his mouth to shout for the guards so he stepped fast, his dagger slitting the man’s throat. His companions saw this, and reached for something, anything, be it a fork or a bottle.

There’s no way this won’t end in bloodshed.

He gave a signal to Soris as the humans started to yell and attack. They started slaughtering, cutting necks, stabbing, hacking and slashing, blood spurting in arcs, the room painted red, blood and wine running in tandem, in rivers and beats, as the screams died out in gurgles.  

 When the thugs were taken care of, the arl’s son was quaking in his boots. Typical. Without hirelings, the nobles always stop pretending to be more courageous than they really are.

Soris tried to help Shianni up from the corner of the room but she waved him away. She hastily grabbed what cloth was around to cover herself. “Soris, change into clean clothes and wipe those blades.” Soris nodded and unknotted his pack. Then Tabris turned to the pig. He reached out and grabbed the human by the collar. “Where are the other women?”

Even in defeat, the noble tried to get out of it by using his position. “If you touch me, my Father will hear of this. He will burn the alienage to the ground.”

“Where are the women?” he repeated, shaking the hand on Vaughan’s collar and pressing the other holding the dagger against his neck.

“In the back room, here take the keys, just don't hurt me.” He gave it to Soris and he went out the room to fetch them.

“Spare me, and I will stay away from the alienage. No one would need to know about all…this.” Vaughan looked up to him, quaking but determined to be defiant, drenched in the blood of his companions, metal mixing with the fragrance of spilled wine.

He looked at Vaughan, then at Shianni.  

The rich will always find a way to twist the law to their favor. And poor people, like him, will always see the harsh side of the stick they call justice.

“No. You’re not getting away with this. Not this time,” he said as he plunged the blade to the bastard’s neck.


	28. Chapter 28

And so he would hang.

Miraculously, they were all able to escape the estate. They had one close call with a guard, but Tabris said he was instructed to take out the trash per Vaughan’s instructions. The guard let them go, shaking his head, thinking he isn’t paid enough to deal with their young master’s kinks.

At the alienage, Soris and Tabris’ parents told them to escape and was helping them pack, when the city guards swarmed the compound like bees. It seems the guard captain wasn't as stupid as he looks. He put two and two together and figured out that their visit to him and the arl's son's death were connected somehow.

They broke in houses, interrogating everyone, threatening them with collective whipping if no one comes forward. Finally, he had enough. Why should everyone suffer because of him, even if he was right to kill the gutless pig?

So he surrendered, with the guard captain braying to all gawkers that justice is being served and the citizens need not worry about criminal lawlessness with the city guards present. He laughed at that, and the crowd was pleased when someone whacked him on the head.

“The insolent knife ear. How dare he kill a noble and laugh about it. Just look at those pointy ears and pinched face, looking like the rats they are. Elves are just up to no good,” they murmured.  

If the guards could be trusted with anything, it won’t be spotting criminal lawlessness. At least, in the perfumed citizens. But to street rats like him, they’d be onto it like dogs on a scent.

They reached the gallows where all people can see how criminals are punished. “You’re enjoying this, eh? Let’s see how you enjoy this when you’re at the end of this rope,” said his executioner as he looped the noose on his neck.

“Blessed are the peacemakers, for they shall abide in the Maker’s side,” intoned the Mother beside him.

__Andraste, guide us. Andaste, save us._ _

He closed his eyes, savoring every moment that he’s alive. His life will be short, true, but he hoped the alienage would be better off now. There is nothing to hope for,  other than be counted among those who returned at the Maker’s side. He hoped, that the Maker understands why he did it and forgive him.  

He closed his eyes and his last glimpse was a crowd calling for his death, a dark skinned human among them.


	29. Chapter 29

Elissa awoke with the dog growling beside her. She sat up in her bed, rubbed her eyes, and looked blearily at the big mabari.  “What is it?” she asks, her words slurred with sleep.

The dog growled even louder at the door. Her dog sometimes wake her up in the middle of the night to get out. Sighing, she got up and opened the door when a servant ran by.

“The castle is under attack! Save me my-” an arrow cut off his words and his neck and he fell, choking on his own blood.

Elissa screamed, horrified. She had enough sense to go to the armor stand and hastily put on her armor and grabbed her daggers. Just in time, as she heard boots walking towards her room.

“I go first with the little teyrna” said one of them. He opened her door and the dog sprang on his throat. Blood and gore spurted around the hall, splattering the other men as they moved to take out the hound. Elissa bounded out, her courage rising for her dog, stabbing one in the eye and slashing the neck of the other. The dog bowled them and he held one down as Elissa buried her daggers in his chest, hot blood squirting on her face, her neck, her hair, filling her nose with the scent of death.

An arrow zipped near her cheek and she flinched. There were archers near the door, one of them aiming at her when a mace went down the back of his head and he crumpled. The other was knocked off his feet and he screamed as a shield went down and his head rolled.  

“Darling, I heard fighting outside and I feared the worst. Are you hurt?” Teyrna Eleanor appeared in the doorway, in armor, terrible to look at, her face like thunder.

“Mother,” Elissa sobbed with relief. Her mother went to help her up and wiped the blood from her face. True, the blood hadn’t made her nauseous but she never had to kill someone before. It was all playful fighting with her father’s knights and rough training with her mother. But there were three bodies on the floor, the dog worrying the throat of one of them.

“Those are Howe’s men. Why are they attacking us?” Eleanor said, looking at the dead men.

“I don’t know, Mother! I heard they were going to…” she couldn’t continue.

“Hush darling. I’m here now.” She felt her mother’s hand on her back as she tried to control her sobs. “Have you seen your Father? He never came to bed.”

“No I haven’t. I’ve been in my room.”

“We must find him.” Her mother walked away and looked out the hall to check for enemies.

“Where’s Oriana and Oren?” Elissa asked, wiping her cheeks.

Her mother spun around to her, alarmed. “Andraste’s Mercy! What if they got to them already? Quickly, we must check on them!”

They went to their brother’s room and found the bodies of his wife and child. They couldn’t do anything more for them, except to gut more of Howe’s men in their memory. They found their way to the great hall, where Ser Gilmore and some of the servants are barring the door to the outside.

“Your ladyship! My lady, you’re alive! I was certain Howe’s men had gotten through,” the knight said, relieved at seeing them.

“They have. Have you seen Father?” Elissa asked as she came forward.

Ser Gilmore shook his head. “Last time I know, he was wounded, looking for you and going to the kitchen. There’s a servant’s exit to the larder.”

Something massive hit the other side and the door shuddered under the assault. Ser Gilmore and the others leaned on it hold the door shut.

“Go! I’ll hold them off!”

“You must come with us!” Elissa cried to him.

“No! Someone has to bar the door! Go!” He looked at the teyrna, who reached out to hold of her daughter’s hand. Elissa sprang free of her grip and kissed Ser Gilmore. Let her mother watch, she didn’t care. She couldn’t care, not now.

“I’ll come back for you. Maker watch over you and bring you back to me,” she said to him, before she let go and followed her mother.

At the larder, they found the teryn lying in a pool of blood.

“Howe’s men, have got me first. Someone must look for Fergus and tell him what happened,” the teyrn gasped as he held his side, blood pouring out in into the cold, stone floor. Elissa and Eleanor tried to staunch the ghastly wound, the rag staining red quickly.

“We should go, together. Look, the servant’s passage is right there,” Eleanor said to her husband.

“The castle is surrounded. I won’t be able to make it.”

“I’m afraid the teryn is right.” A figure emerged from the hidden passage, sheathing his daggers. It was a dark-skinned man, in armor. “Howe’s men had not discovered the exit, but they surround the castle. Getting past will be difficult.”  

Eleanor grabbed her mace then she checked. “You are…Duncan, the Grey Warden.”

“Yes, Your ladyship. We tried to reach you sooner.”

“My daughter helped us get here, Maker be praised.” Eleanor looked at her daughter with pride. It seems the fighting lessons had sunk in, despite the girl’s obvious disinterest in anything not involving jewels, dresses, or flirtations.

“I am not surprised.” He said, looking at her with more awe than she deserved.

“Have you come to help?” Elissa asked him, frantic, pressing hard on her father’s wound.

“I’m afraid I cannot. One man against many, this is out of my power.”

“Duncan,” the teryn gasped. “Save my wife and child.”

“I will, your Lordship. However, I fear I must ask something in return. You know my mission.”

“I understand.” Her father looked at Elissa.

Elissa looked at the two of them for a moment then understood. “Father, you cannot be thinking-You were supposed to recruit Ser Gilmore! He’s back there at the hall! You can take him, you just have to go back!”

“I’m afraid the hall is nearly overrun.”

“Go, pup. See that Howe meets justice. Our family..always put their duty first. You must go, for your own sake and for Ferelden.”

“I can’t leave you!”

“Then you leave me no choice,” said Duncan. “I hereby invoke the Right of Conscription and recruit you into the Grey Wardens, despite your objections.”  

“I don’t care for your bloody conscription! My father’s dying and I’m not going to leave him!”

“I’m sorry pup, but..It’s better this way.”

“Bryce, are you sure?” his wife asked quietly.

He smiled at her. “She will not die of this treachery. She will live, and make her mark on the world.”

Eleanor took a long look at him then turned to their daughter. “Darling, go with him.  I’ll stay and buy you time to escape. I’ll kill every Howe man that comes through that door.”

“No, not you too! Please Mother, let me stay with you.”

“My place is at your father’s side. As always. To death and beyond.” She smiled and placed a hand on her daughter’s cheek. “Make me proud. Live. Become a Grey Warden and do what is right.”

“They’ve broken through the gates.We must go, now.” Duncan dragged her to the exit.She tried to hold on to her father, but her mother took hold of her hands and released her grip on him, as Duncan pulled her out towards the exit. She was crying, reaching out for them, but her father and mother only looked on, together in death as in life.

“Go. Do us proud. We love you darling, you and Fergus……We…love you..so much.”


	30. Chapter 30

Thorin returned to their camp after watching the king’s army prepare for battle and found new faces around the campfire. It seems the new recruits had arrived.

The first he saw was the elf. If it wasn’t for his ears, they would’ve mistaken him for a human, due to the way he acted and his height, which was uncommonly tall for his kind. He was fair-haired, with green eyes, long nose and chin. He had a merry-looking face and seems to be interested with everything and everyone around him.

Standing next to him is an elven maiden. Her gray-green eyes missed nothing, noting the entrances and exits and the positions of various persons. Her brown hair was tied away from her face in sensible braids, and she was wearing archer garb of an odd design, fur and leather and hues of brown and green. A bow was slung on her back and a small knife tucked on her belt. Her skin was tanned with an ashy cast.

Beside her is a tall human woman. She was very pretty, with a heart-shaped face and big dark eyes which contrasted well with her pale skin and dark blonde hair. She walked with grace rather than purpose and her well-made armor is inlaid with decorations. However, she was oblivious to her own beauty and its effect, for she stared at the distance, recognizing no one and stayed mute and dumb.

As for the elf, he saw a two dwarves and a mage waiting for them. The dwarf coming towards them had dark hair and was dark-skinned with deep blue eyes. His beard was trimmed and braided and his hair tied back. He was marching more than walking but as he moved, it’s as if he was wearing clothes and not armor. Although his armor was odd and mismatched, all of the pieces were perfectly protecting him.

The dwarf sitting near the fire had a disheveled appearance. His beard was askew as well as his short brown hair. He sat like it was his territory, and he looked at them as if thinking whether they are going to be trouble.

The human next to him was wearing travel-stained velvet robes. Though he was looking somewhere on their side, he knew he was looking at them without being caught out to be staring. He might have been handsome, his dark amber eyes complimenting his dark hair and dark skin, were it not that he was clearly miserable. At the moment, he was busy trying to hold a sneeze.

No one was saying anything, so it fell to Thorin to start talking. “So I suppose you’re the new recruits?” he asked the elf, who seems to be the only one disposed to talking. He was right, for the elf beamed. “Yes, we are. We just got here. I’m Tabris, by the way. From Denerim, the capital of Ferelden”

“Thorin, from Orzammar.”

“Oh! A dwarf really coming from Orzammar!”

Thorin raised a bushy eyebrow at him.

“Sorry. It’s just that the few dwarves I meet don’t really say they’re from Orzammar.”

“That’s because they are not. They have turned their backs on it.”

The duster dwarf laughed. “Aye, tell the lad why ye ain’t in Orzammar.”

Thorin glared at him while Tabris looked uncomfortably at the two of them. After a few comments, Tabris steered the conversation away from Orzammar and into the Blight, then Duncan.

“Don’t you think he’s a bit, er, dodgy?” said Tabris.

“How do you mean?”

“Well, this Joining ritual-it’s very hush-hush. It’s not like we’re stealing the King’s jewels here.”

 “I can assure you, he is a real Warden.’” He told them he had seen him in Orzammar and the Deep Roads. He cannot vouch for everything, though. Some of the Wardens he encountered look like they belong in prison, like right now.

“Oh, that’s…hmm… what did I get myself in to?” the elf leaned back on his hands. “What do you think?” he asked the elf maiden, who was standing a little behind them.

She looked down at him coldly. “I did not come here for idle chatter. We must not delay anymore. We must find the Grey Warden and start the ritual.” She seems incapable of standing still, as she spent the time they were talking walking to and fro. Thorin thought she must be really impatient to join the Wardens.

“We just got here. I thought you and the others would want to rest,” the elf replied, with a glance at the human woman. She was insensible of his concern, however and continued staring at nothing.

“The longer we wait, the greater the numbers of the darkspawn will be. We must not tarry any longer, lest we be attacked unprepared,” the elf maiden answered, nary a thought on her companions.

Tabris considered this and then shrugged. “Well, since everyone is in a hurry then we get to it.” He looked around their camp and counted. “I thought Duncan said there’d be six of you here.”

“There were four of us when we came here, two dwarves and two mages. The other mage is around here somewhere. I don’t know where the other two are.”

“He said there’d be two dwarves, two mages and two humans. Guess it’s the humans who’s missing.”

Thorin stood up too and said “I’ll help get the other recruits together. Who is the Grey Warden?” he asked the elf.

“Someone named Alistair.”


	31. Chapter 31

“Hey, you! You lazy knife-ear. Come here I said!”

Neria whirled at the speaker. “You talking to me?”

“Of course I’m talking to you! Are you dumb as well as deaf? Is that ears of yours for show?” said the human in front of her, hands on hips and looking do her.

“What the-did you just call me stupid? DID YOU JUST CALL ME STUPID?! ”

“I said”-he stopped, taking in the Circle robes, the staff which he thought was just a stick, and the fire creeping up the elf’s hands.

“Mmmmaaker….mmage…I’mmm sorrry….Immmm…AAAAHH!” he bolted away, tripped, scampered on all fours, then ran.

Neria was too surprised to give chase. But she was pleased at the sight of the fleeing human and started laughing, when a voice said “That’s very impressive.”

Neria turned around, her hands alight. Someone was leaning on the post, his face in the shadows.

“Want some?”

“Woah, hold it right there, spitfire! I don’t want a fight,” he said, raising both his hands. Then he stepped into the light of her fire.

He was older than her but younger than the humans here. Or it’s just an elf thing. He had a long pointed chin with a long nose to go with it and hair like straw, half of it tied behind him and the rest hanging freely just above his shoulders. His green eyes were aglow with laughter and he was grinning.  

“What do you want?” she hissed.

“Me? Nothing. But you know”-he cocked his head in the direction where the human had fled- “You might have scared him off, but he’ll come back. With big humans holding pitchforks.”

Neria considered this, then extinguished the fire on her hands. “You’re right. I should have burned him to a crisp when I had the chance.”

“No. No burning. That will only bring the dogs here, and then they will bring their humans. Big ones. With pitchforks.”

“What, you want me to suck up to him?”

“If you’ll just be patient, they sometimes give nice things.”

“Like what?”

He smiled and brought out a sheathed sword, finely made and decorated with little gemstones. It was small, but it’s very pretty.

“OOooh shiny! Can I have it? Can I?” she said, practically bouncing with joy.

“Here. Don’t touch the pointy end.” He handed it to her hilt first. She unsheathed it and turned it around, admiring how the blade caught and reflected the light. The stranger look at her admiring it for a while before saying “There’s more like that. But first, I’m going to teach you how to get it from humans without setting them on fire.”

“Will that make trouble for them? If not, then I’m out.”

“I assure you, this is a tried and tested way to give humans trouble.”

“Alright. What’s the catch?” she asked, suspicious.

“No catch.”

“Then why are you doing this?”

“There’s a lot of humans out here. We elves should stick together.”

She thought for a moment then said brightly, “Alright, I’m in”

“So, partner. What’s your name?” he asked, as they walked together side by side.

“Neria Surana.”

“Pleased to meet you, Neria. I’m Tabris,” he said, shaking her small hand. “We’re going to be great friends, you and I.”


	32. Chapter 32

Thorin found the person he was looking for near the quartermaster. The human was talking to a woman in armor, tall and pretty with sky-blue eyes and golden hair cut in a bob. She was smiling at the man’s attempts of flirting but when she noticed him coming towards them, he saw how her expression changed from good-natured to alert, sizing him up as prey. “Who’s your friend?” she asked her suitor. The human turned around and looked the dwarf up and down. “Don’t know him,” he answered before turning his back to him.

Thorin cleared his throat. “I’m sorry to intrude, but this is a Warden’s business. I’ve been told you were a recruit?” he asked the man.

When he said _recruit_ the woman started laughing. “So he is,” she said to Thorin, before turning to the human. “I think there are spurs you need earning first, big boy,” she said, uncrossing her arms and preparing to walk away.  

Just in time, as a dark-haired boy with the same blue eyes of the woman appeared on top of the stairs. He was walking to meet her and as he descended, he started talking with a sulky tone. “Oh, there you are. I guess it’s too much for you to tell the others that you were here instead of running off again, leaving me behind so they could ask me where the famous hawk is.” Then he saw the rogue and he turned to his sister, exasperated. “This again? Who's that poor guy you just dragged in?" he asked her.

The woman rolled her eyes. “Oh, shut up, Carver. We’re just talking.” She looked at the rogue with an apologetic smile as the boy scowled at them both. “I’m so sorry, but I have to go. Commander’s orders, you understand,” she said. “Come along, little brother. I hate to think you and the others are all crying without me,” she said, shooing the boy away from them. He stared at the rogue one more time before he let his sister turn him away and towards their side of the camp.

“Would it kill you if you just say to them where you are going?” they heard the boy ask his sister.

“Oh, where’s the fun in that? They’d say no. They always do,” she answered with a flick of her hair.

“But it’s still protocol! Just because you’re the commander’s favorite doesn’t mean you could get away with everything. Just because you’ve got more kill-counts than everyone, beat all the teyrn’s men in the-”  

“You’re just as famous, little brother. Don't underrate yourself. Why, you’re the Champion of Sulking in all of Ferelden. I could make you a crown to wear with that, if you like.”

The siblings continued bickering until they’re out of sight. Thorin watched them go before turning back to the human.

“You have a good reason interrupting us back there?” the man asked him gruffly but not before Thorin caught him looking at his pockets.

“You wouldn’t have succeeded with her. She’s out of your league and I doubt she’s the kind of woman who would be merciful,” the dwarf answered.

The human thought on his words, and agreed in silence. “So who’re you supposed to be?”

He introduced himself and his purpose. The human just stared at him. “Well you’re not what I thought you’d be.”

“And who do you expect?”

“Not a dwarf. Yet here you are.”

“You think dwarves aren’t willing to fight darkspawn?”

The human spread his hands in a placating gesture. “I don’t see much of your kind around here. Guess they don’t like to come out of their tunnels much.” When the dwarf narrowed his eyes at him, he changed the subject. “Name’s Daveth. So heard anything about this ritual? I suspect they’d cook it up just for our benefit.”

“For what?”

“To give us a good scare?” Daveth thought for a moment then shook his head. “They don’t seem the type. I happen to be sneaking around camp last night and heard the Grey Wardens talking. So I listened a bit.”

“I see you’ve been busy,” Thorin commented on his eavesdropping.

 “Don’t look like that. They just happened to stop by where I was…doing something.”

Thorin looked at the shifty dark eyes, oily hair and shrewd face and decided he does not want to know what he was doing at that time. “So what have you heard?”

“They’re planning to send us into the Wilds.”

“The Wilds? People here say it was home to barbarians.”

“Chasind barbarians, yes. Cannibals and witches too. My home village isn’t far, and I grew up with tales of the Wilds. Even been here with a few times.” He shuddered. “Scary place.”

“Then why did the army camp here if it’s dangerous as you say?”

“I’m told the Blight started in the forest so the army’s waiting here for them to come out. Dangling meat in front of the bear, if you catch my meaning. It’s all too secretive for me. Makes my nose twitch. I guess we’ll have to wait and see. Like we have a choice.”

“We might not always choose our fortunes. What matters is what we do with it.”

“You take what you can get, right?”

He nodded. “And make the best with what you are given.”


	33. Chapter 33

Mahariel found the man he was looking for near the tents for the wounded. He was sparring with a human woman as tall and big as he is, with fiery red hair and a pretty face if not for a jaw so long and prominent, it might be counted as a weapon. He swung his sword but she deflected it on her shield and suddenly she kicked his knee. He went down on one leg and she swung her sword to rest it beside his neck.

“That’s not fair of you, Lieutenant,” the man said, wincing.

“War isn’t fair, Sir Knight," the woman replied, her sword still beside his neck.

“Someone with honor wouldn’t think about using dirty tactics on his enemy.”

“You’d be fighting darkspawn. All of us here will be fighting darkspawn. And they have no honor to prevent them from fighting dirty.”

The man rose to his feet. “Where’s the glory in that?” he mumbled.

The woman just sighed. He had skills, but he need to fight more as if his life depends on it. After every loss, he acts as if he will be given a pardon, not believing that darkspawn would have him cut and eaten if he so much as dropped his blade. It seems the only way he’d learn is if he was fighting it themselves. Learn, or die.

"We’re done here,” she said, sheathing her sword and turned away. The man was about to protest, but he knew that the battle was already lost so he slung his greatsword on his back and mumbled his thanks to her retreating back. Then he noticed the elf watching him.

“Oh, hello there. Can I help you?” he asked her, confused as to why a stranger was looking at him with such disapproval.

“Are you a recruit of the Grey Wardens?” she asked curtly..

“Ah. Yes. I am Ser Jory. I hail from Redcliffe where I serve under the banner of Arl Eamon.” He waited for her to introduce herself, but as the silence continued, he remembered Duncan said something about other recruits coming along. “You must be one of the recruits I heard about?” he guessed.

“Indeed, I am. I was sent here to fetch you for the ritual. Follow me.” She turned on her heel and walked without a backwards glance. It did not take him long to catch up to her, and as they walked towards their camp, he took this opportunity to know more about his fellow recruit. “If I may ask, were you a soldier before you came here?”

She gave him only a sideways glance. “I am Dalish. I am no soldier of these..humans.”

He checked as he remembered the tales about the Dalish. Elven savages living in the woods who hunts unsuspecting travellers and kidnaps children for sacrifice to their pagan gods.

She finally noticed he had stopped following. “Why had you stopped?”

“Yes I..I apologize. I always found to be around Dalish to be unnerving. I should be pleased that in this case, you’re on our side. We’d best get to Duncan,” he answered nervously.

She looks at him for a moment, then continued walking, with him following not far behind but warily watching her.

Just as she thought. This human is as foolish as he is cowardly, as the rest of his kind. If they weren’t so numerous, her people have nothing to fear from them.

It is a mystery to her why the keeper would expect her to live among humans when there is nothing to admire about them.


	34. Chapter 34

“Greetings! Fellow recruits,” Tabris said to them as he walked towards the campfire, while Neria ran ahead to take her seat among them. Walking alongside him is a tall, handsome and fair haired young human with golden eyes. He looks strangely familiar, though they can’t remember where they’ve seen him before.  

“I have brought you someone who will have some interesting revelations no doubt. Now that we are all here, let’s start the introductions. As Senior Warden, he goes first.” Tabris pointed to his human companion.

“You first,” said the newcomer, smiling.

“Oh come on. You could be an ax murderer for all we know.”

“I swear to you I’m not.”

“Manslayer?” the elf asked him quickly.

“No.”

“Child butcher?”

“No.”

“Ladykiller?”

“No! Wait, what?”

He was finally convinced to tell his background. His name is Alistair, a Junior Warden of some months past. When he revealed that he was a templar recruit, Neria went ballistic.

“You’re one of them! You stupidhead! You stupidhead!” She was on her feet, shouting and pointing at him.

“She hates templars,” the other mage said to the puzzled Alistair.

“I’m an ex-templar,” Alistair protested.

“You may be a dead ex-templar if you don’t watch yourself.”

“Where did Duncan get all this people?” Alistair asked, as Neria continued glowering at him.

“Well, I’m from Denerim,” Tabris cut in, spreading his hands to get their attention. “My name’s Tabris. I invite you all to go to our wonderful city, if you don’t mind the puddles and the dog shit. Just hold on to your purses.”

 The brown haired dwarf spoke next. “Brosca. From Dust Town, Orzammar. We can, uh, go there if ye donna mind steppin over drunk dwarves. Just hold on to yer necks.”

“Thanks, but I think I’ll pass,” Alistair said. Everyone nodded in agreement with him.

“I’m Daveth, from Denerim too,” the dark-haired man said as he clapped a hand on Tabris’ shoulder.   

The others turned to the human girl, her head on her knees.

“Elissa. Just Elissa,” she said, not looking up.

“My name is Jory,” the tall, balding human said. He was a knight who had won many tourneys, married to a beautiful woman, and felt very honored to be able to join the famous Grey Wardens. Tabris and Daveth clapped enthusiastically, the latter doing it mockingly.

Then it was two mages’ turn.

“So, Circle robes. Tower of Magi,” Alistair guessed.

“Where else do you think, dipshit?” Neria replied, still glaring at him.

“Oh, I don’t know. They said there’s an old hag living in the woods and I’m just wondering if she’s missing a daughter.”

Neria aimed a kick at Alistair’s shin but missed.

“Well, she is Neria Surana. Circle Mage,” Tabris said as he restrained Neria from hitting Alistair again.

“Needa hand?”

“Nah, we’re good.” Then they turned to the other mage.

“Amadeus Amell. Mage.” He sounded bored.

Then they turned to the dark-skinned elf girl.

“Oh, come on. Can’t we know your name, elf?” Daveth asked her when she just glared at them all.

“It’s Mahariel, shemlen.” She will never permit them to call her by her birth name.

“Allright, Mahariel. Pleased to meet you,” Tabris said in a placating tone. She isn’t pacified, though.

The dark-haired dwarf said “My name is Thorin. From Orzammar.” He caught Brosca give him a mocking glance as he introduced himself.

“So, now that we know each other, are we all ready for the Joining Ritual?” Tabris asked, sensing it will be going to be more than awkward continuing the meet and greet. Everyone more or less indicated their agreement.

“Then, let’s tell Duncan. Follow me please,” Alistair said as he rose.


	35. Chapter 35

Before a great big bonfire, Duncan started speaking about their task. “Now that you’re all here, we may begin. Assuming of course that you’ve quite finished riling up the Circle mages, Alistair?” he asked, turning to the Junior Warden.

“What can I say? The Holy Mother ambushed me. The way she wields guilt, they should stick her in the army,” the ex-templar said in his defense.

“She forced you to sass the mage, didn’t she?” When Alistair didn’t answer, Duncan continued “We cannot afford to antagonize anyone, Alistair. We don’t want to give anyone anymore ammunition against us.”

“You’re right, Duncan. I apologize,” Alistair said, humbled.

Just as Duncan started to speak, a human came running towards them.

“Where’s those elves-there they are!” the man shouted at Tabris and Neria. “You useless elf! I told you to bring those boots to Lord-” he stopped when he saw Duncan and the other recruits staring at him.

Tabris clapped a hand on his shoulder. “My good man. I was just telling the Grey Warden Commander about you,” he said cheerfully.

“Grey Warden Commander?” the human asked, puzzled as he looked at them all.

“Yes. Over there is Duncan, the Commander of all Grey Wardens.” He nodded towards their leader. “Duncan, this is the man I was talking about. Isn’t he such a good and generous man? He gave a pair of boots for the war effort.”

“I..I did?”

“In times like these, it’s good to know there’s a shining example of such great generosity.” The elf turned to the man. “Thank you, dear Sir. Know that your good deed will not be forgotten. We'll remember you, as we Grey Wardens together with our king defeat the darkspawn and claim victory!” he said, staring into some vision in the distance, clenching his fist.

The man looked uncertainly at them, but Duncan showed no reaction. After a minute of silence, he said stiffly, “I am honored to be of service to the Grey Wardens”. Then he walked back to where he came, still puzzling over what happened.  

When the man was gone, Duncan asked Tabris. “Did he really give a pair of boots for the Grey Wardens?”

“He does now,” the elf replied, grinning at them all. Then his boots squeaked. Neria giggled under her new hat.

Duncan gave one of his long-suffering sighs as the elf said, grinning, “Humans are so wonderful. They can be nice, if they really tried”, his fellow recruits staring at him.

“Right. What were you saying again, Duncan?” Alistair pressed him before more people sassed by the Wardens come forward.


	36. Chapter 36

Thorin isn’t sure what to make of this trip to the Wilds. There is the fetching of darkspawn blood to be sure, but is that really that simple? Duncan never gave more details than “Get darkspawn blood and some documents” before he shooed them off. If this were a dwarven expedition, he would know what to do. For a start, he wouldn’t send recruits to battle without checking to see if they were trained first. Not only as a unit, but also individually.

He looked at his companions one by one. The other dwarf has seen plenty of fights, but he wouldn’t count on him if they got attacked. The archer elf is doing well as a scout, but she might as well be alone for all the concern she gives to the group. The other elf is playing with his knives when he should be guarding the flank. The human girl’s mind is definitely elsewhere while the dark-haired human take covert peeks at her rear. The big human is a like walking boulder, looking around without any purpose with his seeing.  

Meanwhile, the rear guard is made up of two mages. He had seen mages in action fighting with the Wardens and esteem them highly, but those skinny arms on the boy had never been in combat, much less strenuous spellcasting. And the girl is strolling like a dwarven lass would on a market day in the Diamond Quarter.

He ran through scenarios for why they are sent to the Wilds. Testing their skills? Hardly. If they did, they would send a Senior Warden who is more observant. This one was more intent in looking at the scene than taking notes on his recruits.

Culling the weak? From what he heard, Duncan hadn’t had much choice in his recruits, and his choices aren’t mostly pick of the lot. It seems surfacers don’t esteem Wardens as much as in Orzammar, where candidates literally kill each other for the honor of donning the grey.     

But he is now with surfacers, and their ways are different. Guess he’ll have to watch the Warden for a clue.

When they were attacked by wolves, it was every man to his own. Thorin forgot he had companions when a cry tore through the baying and snarling and looked around.

The elf mage was running in circles, sending bolt after bolt against her wolf pursuer, yelling her head off. The boy was surrounded with wolves. One was about to lunge, but he put a hand to his temples. A shimmer in the air and the wolves swayed, dazed, as the boy ran.

“Neria! Stop running around and freeze them!” said the boy.

“Shut up! I’m not listening to you ever again!” she replied.

He looked at Alistair, who also heard the cry. The Warden turned around to go to them, but he was knee-deep in wolves. While he was distracted, a wolf lunged at his throat.

So, not a test of survival then.

Thorin kicked the wolves surrounding him and ran towards the elf-mage, shouting “Here girl!”

“I have a name!” the girl snapped. Nevertheless, she started running towards him. He met her halfway and swung his axe at the wolf. Steel met fangs and the wolf landed on the ground.

“Keep behind me,” he barked at the two and turned to face more wolves.

He swept aside the wolf coming for him and buried his ax on the next one. The other wolves paused, snarling at him. He saw one circling his side and started to face it, when the one in front of him leaped. He expected that, and was about to swing his ax when fire torched the wolf and his companions. He felt something bit on his arm but he twisted to put the wolf in front of the spout of flame. The wolves howled in pain but he cut that short with generous sweeps of his ax.

He turned around to the girl and looked past her. It seems the others had taken care of their wolves. Tabris was consoling the human girl, her arms wrapped around her, as Daveth looks on. Jory was checking the damage to his armor while the elf-girl was on the watch for more enemies, her finger on the drawstring of her bow.  

“Are you two alright?” he asked the mages.

The girl replied “Fine” like it didn’t matter much to her. She turned to the other mage. “You’re not much use without Irving around, are you?”

“If I am, I could let you walk with that limp,” he said, nodding at the bite on her calf where the torn robes revealed it. She snarled and turned away.

“Oh good, you’ve saved them!” Alistair said as he came up to them. “I can’t thank you enough. Maker’s breath, for a moment, I was worried the wolves might have got them. I’m pretty sure I wouldn’t want to see Duncan’s angry face when he finds two recruits missing.”

“They’re fine, just a few bites and scratches,” he answered.

“I see. I’ll leave them to you then.” He walked away to check on the others.

Thorin’s arm suddenly stung and he looked at his ruined gauntlet. It seems that the wolf fangs had bit through the cheap leather. He was about to wrap his arm with bandages when a voice behind him said “I could fix that if you like.”

Thorin looked up at the dark skinned mage and nodded. The boy waved his hands and he saw his wounds sealed themselves instantly. He flexed his fingers to test it, looking at how the mage made his arm good as before, before turning to him.

“That was nice. Thank you”.

The boy nodded.

“Is this your first time in a fight?”

“No. __I’ve__  been fighting templars and demons while __he__  has been fighting two sticked together pages” Neria cut in. Thorin ignored the arrogant tone. Stone knows all recruits are like that just before they face their first darkspawn.

“No, but I haven’t had much experience in combat. Healers aren’t supposed to fight,” he said. Neria snorted.

“Well, what other things can you do?” he asked the two of them.

“I can give you a boost to your strength and speed, paralyse enemies and give you a shield,” Amell replied. Neria just conjured fire on her palm.

Thorin looked at them, estimating their abilities before saying to the boy “Heal her.”

Neria protested. “No way I’m going to let him work on me.”

“That’s fine by me.”

“You have to let him. These wolves is just the beginning. You’re not going to fight with that limp.” Thorin said to her.

“Yes, you wouldn’t be of much use for anything,” the other mage sneered.

Neria protested but she let him heal her leg, if only to prove to to the other that she’s more useful than him. When she walked off, Thorin turned to him to ask why he had to rile her up like that but Alistair called out to them. “Hey! It’s nice chatting and all, but please do it after we move out of the dark nasty forest?”

As the trio set out towards the main group, Thorin said to them “Stick behind me and cast your spells if you have a chance.” Neria rolled her eyes.  

The group didn’t go far when they met an ambushed caravan. Some murmured of the victims’ bad luck while Alistair suggested to check for survivors, but not to go too far. There was only one, and Amell stepped forward to heal him. After the soldier got better, he told them they were ambushed by darkspawn. He thanked them for their help and when he left for camp, Jory started panicking. “Have you heard him? There were wolves and now darkspawn. You’re all crazy for not getting out of this cursed forest.”

“You’re a coward for a big man,” Daveth mocked.

“Everybody calm down. I assure you we won’t be attacked like those soldiers. As a Warden, I can sense darkspawn nearby, so I can warn you if they try to ambush us” Alistair tried to reassure them.

This wasn’t enough for Jory, who started babbling about his wife and child and how this wasn’t what he expected in signing up with the wardens. Daveth mocked him harder for it. Mahariel kept scanning the trees, her mouth becoming thinner with every word of Jory’s. Brosca just looked amused while Tabris tried to be unconcerned but not quite getting it. Elissa’s eyes were getting bigger with every word Jory spoke.   

“Consider this part of the test then,” Thorin said, cutting off Jory before he could scare the others into believing greater danger exists.

“Alright, you heard him. Let’s go,” Alistair said and ushered them towards the ruins.

It wasn’t far before they got attacked. Thorin looked at Alistair for direction, but the Warden is either unwilling to give orders or inexperienced. Without someone directing them, the group fought without coordination and went for their own targets, spreading out. Daveth rushed towards the hurlocks before the warriors.

“Fool,” Mahariel spat as she fitted an arrow to her string. She let go and it hit the hurlock who was going for Daveth.

“Thanks love,” replied the cheeky rogue. By then, Alistair and Jory caught up to him and started slashing their enemies into little bits of darkspawn. Meanwhile, Elissa and Tabris tried to engage the archers farther off but hurlocks came to meet them and they found themselves surrounded. Elissa was able to evade, but Tabris had a harder time shaking off his. Soon, he had a gash on an arm and chest would most likely turn up a porcupine, along with Alistair and Jory. Daveth found he bit more than he could chew and is sporting a gash on his leg. Brosca had been able to reach the archers but is being hammered by a hurlock. Thorin had enough.

“You three, Stay back. Neria, Mahariel, target the archers.” Both women bristled at being ordered but cries of pain from the others made them obey him. “Amadeus, heal the serious injuries first. Elissa, Tabris, fall back to Alistair! Jory, reinforce Brosca! You too Daveth! Get behind them!” Thorin shouted as he joined Alistair. A hurlock tried going for the mages, but a swipe of an ax from him changed its mind.

“Elissa, Tabris get behind those fighting us. Do not engage them head-on. Same to you Daveth!” he shouted between each swing. A scream of “Eat that!” and a fizzing noise went past him and exploded on the darkspawn archers, sending them reeling to the ground. A successive volley of arrows and Mahariel made easy pickings of the survivors. When they thinned enough darkspawn, Thorin ordered them to regroup. The rogues were ordered not to rush and intercept those trying to flank the warriors protecting the mages and archers. All of them shouldn’t be figthing too far from the group or they risk getting surrounded. It went on for sometime, but eventually, all of them survived and all darkspawn dead.

While Amell went through them healing injuries, Mahariel turned to the dwarf and said “Let us be clear. I will not take orders from you, durgen’len. I only did because you made sense at that time. Do not expect that I will repeat it.” She stormed off. Thorin saw her go then Alistair came up to him. “Wow, you really know your way around darkspawn.”

Thorin shrugged. “I’m a dwarf. I have fought darkspawn before. Anyway, I’m sorry about shouting orders midbattle. I didn’t have the time to tell you what I planned beforehand. Forgive me.”

“No, no, it’s alright. Actually, we owe you our lives. If it wasn’t for your quick thinking, some of us might have been seriously injured or worse, dead.” Alistair answered. “Though if you had any more suggestions, now’s the time to say it.”

Thorin suggested sending Mahariel to scout ahead while both of them will be in the van. The mages will be in the middle of the group while the Brosca and Jory bring up the rear. The rest watch for the flanks.

“Right. Let’s get those vials filled.”

They had all their vials but they still have to get those documents. As they proceeded deeper into the Wilds, they encountered more darkspawn. As usual, Alistair wasn’t speaking much so Thorin gave out orders, his voice cutting through the field, galvanizing them into some sort of a fighting unit.

After the battle, Daveth approached the mages and turned to Neria, awed after seeing what her fireballs can do. “That’s a great spell you have there, he said. "If you just use it one after the other, we’d kill all the darkspawn, we would.”

Amadeus was about to explain but hesitated. He looked at the rogue, and wondered if he was one of those people who have strong views of magic, yet remain largely ignorant of it. Neria however, explained it much more succintly: “That’s not how magic works, dumbass!”

Amadeus explained that magic need to gather before a particular spell can be used again. So no, she can’t make fireballs in succession. Daveth was disappointed at his news.

After another battle with darkspawn, they reached the ruins, and started searching for the chest from the pile of debris. They unearthed one beneath a staircase leading to nowhere.

 “It’s empty,” Alistair observed after he finished examining the chest.

Thorin walked beside him and inspected it, noting the caved-in lid and broken lock showing someone who doesn’t know things like lockpicks, when a voice from above the steps said “Well, well well, what have we here?”

All of them turned towards it, Mahariel aiming her arrow at the source. What they all saw was a beautiful woman dressed in….maybe “dressed” is not the right word here, as she has on a shawl-like garment which barely covered her bosom and skirt made of strips of black leather stitched together. A black sleeve with feathers on the shoulder and boots up to her thighs completed the look. She certainly looked wild but she descended the steps leisurely, like a grand lady of a noble house. A crumbling house in the middle of the woods. They must be excused if all they heard was the question “Scavenger or intruder?”

“We are neither. The Grey wardens once owned this tower,” Mahariel answered, the first to recover her wits, still keeping her bow nocked and pointed at her. Brosca was certainly oogling, Tabris looked like he likes what he was seeing despite the obvious danger signs.

“This is a tower no longer. The Wilds have obviously claimed this desiccated corpse,” the stranger gestured towards the ruins as if showing them her mansion. “I have watched your progress some time,” she said as she walked between them, the recruits parting for her. “Where do they go, I wondered. Why are they here? And now you disturb the ashes none have touched for so long. Why is that?”

“Don’t answer her. She looks Chasind and others may be nearby,” Alistair whispered.

“OOOhhhh! You fear barbarians will swoop down upon you?” she mocked, her arms swaying like a bird.

“Yes. Swooping is bad,” Alistair’s retorted.

Daveth finally stopped staring in order to panic. “She’s the Witch of the Wilds, she is. She’ll turn us into toads!”    

“Witch of the Wilds” she said, enunciating every word. “Such idle fancies, those legends. Have you no minds of your own? You there,” she called to Elissa. “Women are not frightened little boys. Tell me your name and I shall tell you mine.”

“My name’s Elissa. A pleasure to meet you” she said in a flat voice.

“Now that is a proper civil greeting, even here in the Wilds. You may call me Morrigan.” Then she asked briskly “Shall I tell your purpose? Something in that chest, something that here is no longer?”

“ _ _Here no longer__? You stole them didn’t you? You’re some kind of” he paused, struggling to describe her-“sneaky….witch thief!”-giving up.

“How very eloquent. How does one steal from dead men?”

“Very easy, since they’re not putting up a fight,” Tabris quipped.

“Those documents are Grey-Warden property. I suggest you return them,” Alistair demanded.

“I will not since, it was not I who removed them. Invoke a name that means nothing here any longer if you wish. I am not threatened,” the witch replied.

“Do you know where it is?” Thorin finally asked. He had to force himself to ask it nicely, having no patience with women pretending to be coy. Stone knows he had enough of __that__  from noble hunters back in Orzammar.

“It was my mother in fact,” Sodding great. She went even more coy.

“Your……mother?”

“Yes, my mother. Did you assume I spawned from a log?”

“A thieving, weird talking log perhaps,” Alistair muttered.

“Not in the Wild are monsters. Flowers grow, as well as toads.”

Alistair did not care about flowers. “You know the Circle of Magi don’t you? The circle requires all accounting of mages. This is the law of the land and the chantry,” he said, earning a glare from Neria.

“If you wish to tell your Chantry about me, go ahead. I have nothing to fear from priests.”

“The Chantry don’t send priests but templars,” Amell pointed out.

Neria and the witch was about to comment but was cut short by Thorin, clearly having a headache. “Can you take us to your mother?”

“Now that is a sensible request. I like you.”

 “I’d be careful. First it’s __I like you__  then zap! Frog time,” Alistair cautioned.

“She’ll put us in a pot she will. Just so you watch,” Daveth said. Jory, however,  was unperturbed. “If the pot’s warmer than this forest, It’ll be a nice change.”

“Follow me then if it pleases you,” Morrigan offered. She started to turn away when a shriek of pain pierced the air. They looked around and saw Mahariel doubled over.

“Are you alright?” Elissa asked her, helping her up while Amadeus moved to her side and tried to examine her. Mahariel waved him off. “This is something beyond your skills, mage.”

“It’s true. She has the taint. I can sense it. There’s only one cure for that. Become a Warden,” Alistair said, looking sadly at Mahariel. She would have none of it.

“Do not pity me, shemlen.”

“Are you coming or not? I shall not be made to wait upon you,” Morrigan called out impatienly to the group.

Blasted woman. “Elissa, Amadeus, Neria and Brosca, get Mahariel back to camp,” Thorin said quickly.

“No! I will not fail on this task!” Mahariel struggled to rise but a spasm of pain shook her and she was forced to lean on Elissa.

“You’ve done enough. Let us take it from here. You’ll slow us down and I doubt that woman will wait for you to catch up.”

‘If you think this will hinder me, you are wrong. I have never let a task go unfinished and I will not do so now,” she hissed. She tried to stand and succeeded, although she was swaying slightly.

“You can barely stand, much less fight.”

“Nevertheless, I do what I must.”

“I need you to tell Duncan what happened. If we don’t come back, at least he knows we haven’t been eaten by darkspawn.”

“Yeah, if we don’t come back tell him to listen for croaking,” Tabris added.

The rest all pleaded with Mahariel to go back to camp. Mahariel, however, was insensible to their help and glared at Thorin. “I shall go not because I am convinced, but because I am overborne. Do not think I shall forget this, durgen’len.”

Well, that’s just sodding grateful. “You’re welcome.”

“I’m not going with them. I’m coming with you!” Neria pouted.

“You’re not”

“Who do you think you are, ordering me like that?”

“There may still be darkspawn out there and they need you Neria,” Tabris said, stalling Thorin who’s had enough of women and their stubborness. “They can’t go back without your fireballs.”

Neria fluffed at the thought that they’re helpless without her and considered what he said. “Oh all right. I don’t want to spend another minute with Ex-Tinhead.” she huffed, glaring at Alistair.

When finally, Neria’s group set out, Alistair and the others approached Morrigan.

“Said your goodbyes? That took you long enough,” she mocked.

“I have to secure precautions,” Thorin replied to her.

“Why? Do you not trust me?”

“I’d be stupid not to around dangerous people such as yourself”

She smiled at that. __Dangerous__. “Indeed.”


	37. Chapter 37

They arrived at a snug little hut, with a chimney smoking. There an old woman was waiting for them at the front door.

“Greetings, Mother,” said Morrigan when they were near enough. “May I bring before you Grey Wardens who-”

“I see them girl,” her mother cut her off. “Mmm. Much as I expected,” she said, her eyes running over them in excitement.

She is not what they expected at all. They expected a terrible witch, warts aplenty on a long nose, sharp teeth and even sharper nails. What they found was an old woman, grey of hair but not bowed, with a face that might have been beautiful once. She looks like any other peasant living in the backwoods, with her shabby clothes and unkempt hair.

“Are we supposed to believe you were expecting us?” Alistair asked, as suspicious of the mother as of the daughter. She, however, took his rude manners good -naturedly.

“You are required to do nothing, least of all believe. Shut one’s eyes or open one’s arms wide, either way, one’s a fool,” she replied, before giving a cackling laugh.

Now there’s the witchy trait they were looking for.

“She’s a witch, I tell you! We shouldn’t be talking to her,” Daveth cried out, wringing his hands.

“Quiet, Daveth! If she’s a witch, do you want to make her mad?” Jory said, trying to shush him.

That made her notice him. “There is a smart lad. Sadly irrelevant to the larger scheme of things but it is not I who decides.” At the word irrelevant, all of them tried not to look at Jory as he flushed. “Believe what you will. And what of you?” she asks Thorin.

“Your daughter said you have the Grey Warden papers. We came here for them,” the dwarf answered.

“Straight to business, I see. Keep it up and it shall keep you in good stead. But as you said, you did not come here to hear the mutterings of an old woman. If you can be patient a little longer, your papers will be returned to you,” she replied, before turning around to her hut to fetch the treaties. Alistair thought she was out of earshot when he turned to Tabris. “So that’s the dreaded Witch of the Wilds?” he asked, before Tabris could nudge him.

“Witch of the Wilds, eh? Morrigan must have told you that. She fancies such tales, though she would never admit it. Oh, how she dances under the moon!” the old woman said merrily.

“They did not come to listen to your wild tales, mother,” Morrigan said, a hand on her face, as if her mother told an embarassing childhood story of hers in front of her new friends.

Her mother stopped laughing. “True, they came for the treaties, yes?” She held out a scroll case to them. “And before you begin barking, your precious seal wore off long ago. I have protected these.”

“You….Oh. You protected them?” Alistair asked, surprised.

“And why not? Take them to your Grey Wardens and tell them this Blight is greater than they realize.” She handed the scrolls to Alistair, who was still stunned.

“What do you mean the threat is greater than they realize?” Thorin asked, suddenly alert.

She shrugged. “Either the threat is more, or they realize less. Or perhaps the threat is nothing! Or perhaps they realize nothing,” she replied before laughing again.

“How do you know all this?” Tabris asked.

“Do I? Perhaps I am simply an old woman with a penchant of moldy parchments.”

“I’m sure they’ll be eager to act on your advice,” Alistair said, dubious.

That only made her laugh harder. “Well I cannot be responsible for their doubts. I would go mad. Or am I already?”

“Thank you for returning them,” Thorin said wearily, knowing that they will get nothing more from her now that she’s lost it.

“Such manners! Always in the last place you look. Like stockings!” She laughed some more while they just stared at her in silence. At last it died down. “Oh, do not mind me. You have what you came for.”

“Time for you to go then,” Morrigan said briskly, shooing them off, before her mother say anything that will make them two a laughingstock.

“Do not be ridiculous, girl. These are your guests,” her mother said, in a sudden show of good manners.

 “Oh very well, ” Morrigan replied, rolling her eyes. She turned to them. “I will show you out of the woods. Follow me.”

As they walked back the way they came, Tabris started chuckling and muttered “irrelevant” at Jory.

“I am a knight of Redcliffe,” Jory said with dignity.

Tabris laughed some more, before turning to Thorin at his side. “So what do you think? Is she a witch?”

Thorin thought about her beggarly appearance, her cryptic words and her eccentric laughing. “Just an old woman. A little odd perhaps. Either way, we’re scaring ourselves with nothing as usual.”


	38. Chapter 38

They had retrieved the documents and were back at camp, where the rest of the recruits were waiting for them. Duncan took the vials and the documents and went away for a moment to prepare. As they waited for him to come back, Jory started getting impatient. “The more I hear about this Joining, the less I like it” the knight said, standing over his companions who were sitting on the floor. Except Mahariel, who was lying on a pallet and, with humans around her, trying not to show her fear of the whispers and the creatures swimming around her vision.

“Are you blubbering again?” Daveth asked, leaning on a post, annoyed. The man’s complaining had been grating on everyone.

The knight turned to face him. “Why all these damn tests? Have I not earned my place?”

“Maybe it’s tradition. Maybe they’re just trying to annoy you”

“Well, we can’t do anything about it now.” Tabris shrugged.

It was not enough for the knight. “I only know that my wife is in Highever with a child on the way. If they had warned me…it just doesn’t seem fair.”

“Would they have come if they had warned you? Maybe that’s why they don’t. The Wardens do what they must, right?” Daveth asked.

“Including sacrificing us?”

“I’d sacrifice more if I knew it would end the Blight” the rogue said fiercely. “You saw those darkspawn, Ser Knight. Wouldn’t you die to protect your pretty wife from them?”

Jory had the grace to look abashed.

“Maybe you’ll die. Maybe you’ll all die. If nobody stops the darkspawn, we’ll die for sure.”

Jory thought about the truth in his words but said in a petulant voice “I’ve just never faced a foe I could not engage with my blade.”

“So yer gonna whine it to death?” Brosca said, annoyed with the long wait and even longer complaining. Whatever this ritual is, they should get it done and over with.

As if on cue, Duncan returned with a chalice full of the blood they had gathered and announced they’re going to drink it. The recruits shrank back, revolted at the sight of it. But not the elf, who was too far in pain to think about it. After Alistair said the joining chant, Mahariel took the cup first and drank deep. It didn’t matter that it was darkspawn blood; she drank as if it was the finest wine in Thedas. When she had her fill, she sighed and then lay stretched but looking peaceful.  

“Is she…dead?” Neria whispered, peering at the other elf.

Duncan stood up, done examining her. “She lives. From this moment forth, she is a grey warden. ”

“Oh, that’s good. That’s really…good,” Tabris said, trying to act nonchalant while swallowing rapidly. Duncan held the chalice again and offered it to Daveth. “Daveth, step forward.”

Daveth looked at the others with a cheeky grin. Then he turned to Duncan, took the chalice and drank. At once, he dropped the cup, and wrapped his hands around his throat, screaming, his eyes white, seeing a great and terrible dragon, and horrible, tainted faces pressing down on him as he collapsed to the ground.  Then with a final twitch, he lay still.

Duncan looked sadly at the person who once cut his purse. “I am sorry Daveth”. When he turned around with the chalice, he saw his recruits backing away.  

He looked at them, then said “Step forward, Jory.”

Jory backed even faster till he hit the wall. “But, I…I have a wife! A child! Had I known..”

Duncan’s expression hardened. “There’s no going back,” he said, a warning note creeping up his voice.

“No! You ask too much…there’s no glory in this.” He drew forth his sword. Duncan put the chalice away and drew his own blade. Jory saw this and tried to swing, but Duncan parried and stabbed through his side. They were almost embracing, as Jory gasped his last on Duncan’s shoulder and he died.  Duncan put the body gently to the ground, then stood up and looked at the remaining recruits.

“I am sorry, but the Joining is not yet complete.” He looked at their faces, and only Thorin returned his stare. “You are called to submit yourself to the taint for the greater good.”

He held the chalice up once again. “Thorin, step forth.”

__So that was why the Wardens aren’t careful with darkspawn blood. Because they already drank it,__ he thought. He drank from the chalice, and at once, his vision spun, he saw a terrible Dragon, that awful screeching curdling his blood, and he remembered no more.


	39. Chapter 39

He woke up with something worse than a hangover. But still, it’s better than not waking up at all.

“Oh, am I the first one up?” Tabris asked, rubbing his head, as Alistair and Duncan examined him. They weren’t in a mood for banter.

“Two more deaths. In my Joining, only one of us died, but it was….horrible.” Alistair shuddered, while Duncan peered at him. The elf was white-faced and shaken, but otherwise he’s taking it well. “Do you have something to drink? I need to get this horrible taste out of my mouth.”

Duncan glanced at Alistair and the younger Warden left. He came back, a jug full of ale, and filled a cup and handed it to the elf. Tabris took it and drank noisily.

 Tabris looked around for the bodies but found only his sleeping companions. They must have taken them away during their taint-filled stupor. “I can’t believe you did that to Jory,” he accused Duncan.

“I am sorry. No one must know outside our order about the Joining. When he drew his blade, he sealed his fate,” Duncan explained.

“And Daveth. He would have made a good Warden. Better, I think, than any of us here.” 

They fell silent for the memory of the two departed.

“How do you feel?” Duncan asked him finally, when the silence stretched too long into uncomfortable. Tabris put a clammy hand to his forehead.

“I’ve drunk worse swill. But those don’t give you some terrible dreams that scare the piss out of you. Though I can’t remember what it was.”

“I had terrible dreams too during my Joining,” Alistair said.

“Such dreams come when you sense the darkspawn as we all do. That and many other things can be explained with things to come,” Duncan assured him.

“Oh, great. More terrible dreams. Maybe I should hoard some dark pants.”

“And dark underpants too.”

He winked at Alistair. “Guess you know how it goes, being senior warden and all.”

“Keep being a smart-ass. When the dreams do come, don’t come running to me.”

“I’m joking.”

“Well, I’m serious. Don’t come running to me. Ever.”

The others were coming around, groaning. “You, know, you could’ve got a mattress for us to sleep on so we won’t be waking up like that, sounding like deranged cows.”

“No mattress in Thedas can make you not sound like that,” Alistair said, suppressing a grin.

“Nah, you’re just lazy.”

While Duncan and Alistair went around to check up on the others, Tabris filled a cup and handed it to the one at his side. “Drink?”

Thorin accepted it gratefully and drank.

“Did you know this would happen? The fainting and the dreaming and the moaning?” the elf asked him.

“No.”

“Really? Because back then, you didn’t flinch when Duncan gave you the cup. You must’ve have faith that you’ll survive right?”

“No. I used to fight darkspawn back in the Deep Roads and if it didn’t kill me then, I don’t see why it would kill me now.”

“Spoilsport. I thought you had faith in the wardens, or something inspiring at least. The others thought you were brave, so when you went first and survived, they gave Duncan an easier time.”

“There was nothing brave in it. I was confident I would survive and I did.”

“Hm. Confidence huh? Oh well.”

Thorin thought for a moment. “I take it you weren’t giving Duncan an easy time?”

“Hm? Oh me. I was last to drink, and I said to Duncan if they maybe let me in some way. Like singing. I know some songs and I can carry a tune. I can juggle too, you know. But it’s drinking blood or not and I’m not really fond of blades when it’s pointed at me.”

Thorin looked at the speaker for a long time. “You seem quite cheerful with two people dead.”

Lingering fear mixed with relief of his survival, then guilt that someone had not, then anger at Duncan for keeping the ritual secret made a tangle in his head that he couldn't unravel, so he simply said “From where I come from, bodies drop all the time. It’s best if you don’t think deeply about that, you know. You’ll get crazy faster that way.” Or feel guilty. Either kill or be killed.

Thorin did not know if he should be glad or worried.

The others were awake but Mahariel was still asleep.

“What’s wrong with ‘er?” Brosca asked.

“It will take some time for her to wake up, as she regains her strength. She had been enduring the taint for a week now.” Duncan said.

All of them stared at the sleeping girl. “She’s one tough lass, she is.”

Finally, Mahariel awoke and recovered her wits. Duncan let her reorient herself for a moment, before saying “Everyone, it is finished. Welcome to the Grey Wardens.”

“That reminds me”-Alistair said as he dug around his pockets-”There’s one last part to your joining. We take some of that blood and put it in a pendant. Something to remind us of those who didn’t make this far.” He gave each one a pendant. Some put it on while the rest just stared at them. Neria wrinkled her nose at hers and muttered “It reminds me of a phylactery.”

Tabris nudged her and whispered “Well, what doesn’t kill you…makes good jewelry.”


	40. Chapter 40

“We’re not fighting in the battle?” Alistair asked Duncan, disappointed. They were on the ramparts, watching the army practice drills on the field below.

“This is the king’s personal decision, Alistair,” Duncan answered then explained that the king and his army would be down in the plains with him and the other senior wardens. Alistair and the grunts would light a beacon on top of the Tower of Ishal and signal Loghain’s army to launch a surprise attack behind enemy lines.

“So he needs eight Grey wardens holding up a torch, just in case?”

Neria spoke up. “Yeah, why do we need to all go? It’s just lighting a beacon.  Unless if __he’s__ doing it,” she said, looking at Alistair.

“Are you always mean or is it just me?”

Thorin chided Neira. “You shouldn’t be so eager to go. This is an army of darkspawn, not the rogue packs we’ve encountered back in the Wilds. Fighting them feels like killing again and again, knowing that there’ll be no end to them until you wouldn’t know up from down.”

“Yeah but eight wardens? Really? And why are you not with them if you know all that?”

“He’s babysitting, obviously,” Tabris grinned.

“Aye. We’ve got a dwarf nanny. Waaah!” Brosca threw up his hands.

“Alistair will need help since most of you can’t act like adults,” Thorin replied through gritted teeth. People as new as these will not only get themselves killed, but get in the way of their allies, getting them killed _ _.__

Duncan cut short the banter. “If King Cailan wishes the Grey Wardens to ensure the beacon is lit, then Grey Wardens will be there.”

Alistair conceded. “I get it, I get it. But just so you know, if the king ever asks me to put on a dress and dance on a Remigold, I’m drawing the line, darkspawn or no.”

“ _ _That__ could be a great distraction,” Tabris suggested  

“Ye. That gonna be a good sight. With him doin a shimmy, dem darkspawns’ gonna be watchin still.”

“And then we kill them when they keel over laughing!” Alistair capped it off triumphantly.

 “That’s your plan? No wonder the king don’t what us near,” Amadeus said as they laughed.

“I gotta tell ye, it’s a great plan,” the dwarf answered.

Duncan made a loud sigh over the chuckling Grey Wardens. Then Thorin asked him about when to light it, what should they expect. Duncan assured him that Loghain’s men have prepared everything and were at the tower to assist them.

“I feel like this is a beginning of a great joke,” Tabris said, as they went to prepare. “Like __how many wardens does it take to light a beacon? One to light it and seven to-__

* * *

 

“-clear the tower!” Thorin shouted over the storm raging overhead as they try to reach the Tower of Ishal. The battle had been joined and only their signal for Loghain’s troops is missing.

“I don’t understand! Darkspawn shouldn’t be here!” Alistair shouted back to him.

 It was their bad luck the night had been windy and rainy, making it hard to see where they’re going, but it has also protected them from arrows. Still, some do get lucky so he pulled Neria close underneath his shield. Alistair and Elissa are huddled under one while the two rogues used Amadeus’ shield to step in or out to dodge the arrows, much to his annoyance. Brosca just swatted those with his greatsword, or tried to. He ends up looking like a pincushion.

“We’ll think about that when we’re out of this soddin rain! And where’s Loghain’s men?”

They’ve managed to reach the first level when some soldiers came running out. ‘”The tower is overrun!” said one before an arrow cut off whatever he’s going to say next.

 Thorin readied his shield and ax. “Alright, get to work,” he said to them.

They’ve hacked and slashed and shot and froze and ignite darkspawn. Rinse and repeat. For about three levels. Sodding tower. The person who made this should be set on fire and launched from a catapult.

By then they’re run out poultices and lyrium potions. The mages were out of mana by the time they reached the last floor.

“I hope that’s the last of them,” Thorin muttered, as he opened the door.

Of course not.

At the center of the room stood a monster, with massive horns and over 8 feet tall. Its back was to them and it appeared to be chewing something. When it turned towards them, they finally knew where Loghain’s men had gone.

“OOOGREEE!!”

The beast responded with a roar. That was a cue to for them to fan out.

“Neria, Mahariel hit it with the strongest thing you’ve got. The rest of you, surround it. Watch for the hands!”

They did as Thorin asked, but as its legs were covered in armor and underneath is a tough hide, they didn’t do much damage. Then the ogre slammed its fists on the ground and all of those near it went sprawling. Tabris was first to stand but unfortunately, the ogre started sweeping the room with its massive hands and he was caught. He landed a few feet away with a sickening crack.

Brosca yelled and charged. Unfortunately, so did the ogre. The dwarf was caught between its horns and he went flying to a pillar, where it shattered and buried him. Crying with dismay, his other companions sank their blades on it.

“Hand!”

The ogre swiped its massive hand around. Elissa and Thorin managed to get out of the way in time, but not Alistair. The ogre lifted him to only to smash him to the ground. Yelling, the others hit its legs through the armor covering it, trying to hamstring it but their blades are no match for its tough hide. It was about to pummel Alistair again, when Elissa climbed up to the monster’s back and buried her dagger at the junction of neck and collarbone. It jerked violently, throwing her off balance and she landed, badly. She screamed as her ankle broke and her dagger went cluttering on the stone floor.

“Someone get them away!” Thorin shouted as he tried to get the beast’s attention away from the wounded. Mahariel ran and dodged her way to Elissa and half dragged, half carried her away. She left her leaning on a pillar to go and help Amadeus, who had difficulty dragging the fallen Alistair. Elissa was crying from pain, but she grabbed a discarded bow and arrows and started shooting at the monster.

Thorin dodged and rolled while the ogre swiped its massive hands to get him. Alistair was already down, gravely injured when the ogre grabbed him and pummeled him to unconciousness while Tabris sat dazed at a corner, blood dripping from his head.  Flying is good but landing is brutal. Brosca is nowhere to be seen among the pile of rubble.  

With a curse, he swung around and was about to face the ogre, when Amadeus shouted “Run! We’ll wear him down!” while making a swishing motion with his hands. He was clustered with Neria and Mahariel at the center, firing spell and arrow at the ogre. Trusting that they know what they’re doing, he did as he was asked. He started running around them.

That’s…an odd way to fight. He looked and saw the ogre chasing him, roaring with pain when spells and arrows hit it, but ignoring the source. He concentrated in dodging and rolling, careful not to get too close to the trio.

Neria was about to hurl a fireball when Amadeus stopped her. “Save it till it stops chasing him.” She snarled at him but she fired another spell instead. When the ogre finally figured out the pain is not caused by the dwarf, he turned and started to charge the three.

“Now!”

“Eat this!”

Thorin rolled just in time when the fireball exploded on the ogre and knocked it off its feet. Finally, they’re of the same height. Thorin buried his axe on the massive neck, once, twice thrice, many times while the others continued to hit it until the thing stopped moving. He picked up Alistair’s fallen sword and drove it in its heart, to be sure.

“Is it dead?” Neria asked, her face covered in soot and fear.

Thorin sat down, too exhausted to move. “Yes it’s dead. But if you want to make sure, you can use it as kindling to light the beacon.”

Neria smiled then she turned to shoot a fire spell at the wood for the beacon. It caught easily and was blazing merrily while the others tended to their companions. Amadeus used what little mana he had on Alistair, while Neria and Mahariel can do no more than wrap bandages or make splints for the others. Limping, Thorin went to the rubble pile and managed to dig out Brosca. The dwarf was unconcious, but he is alive, his breathshallow.

When their companions are more or less conscious, Neria moved towards Thorin, who was making some sort of makeshift stretcher for Brosca using ropes he found. “Is it over? I hope it’s over. I don’t want to be doing this again,” she said as she sat beside him.

Thorin threaded the rope between the poles. “We’re done. We lit the beacon. It’s up to the others to do the rest.”

“Do you think Duncan and the others are winning?”

He was about to say something about believing in your allies because that’s the only thing you can do for them now, when the door burst open and darkspawn came pouring forth. Too late, he realized someone should have watched the door. He stood up and was about to raise his ax, but a bunch of arrows sprouted from his chest. His ax fell from his hand, suddenly becoming too heavy. The ground went up to meet him as he heared Neria scream in fury and saw Mahariel trying to drag Tabris away from the incoming horde. She gave up, and began shooting at those who had surrounded Elissa. The girl was screaming, her blades glinting, when one of the fallen got hold of her swollen foot and pulled. She went down among the blighted mass. Genlocks surrounded Amadeus, hacking at his shield. Behind him, Alistair was slashing away, but with the injuries from earlier, his swings weren’t as strong as before and he was getting wounded again. Neria was backing away and firing spell after spell, cursing.  Then a great explosion rocked the tower and that was the last he knew, as darkness took him.


	41. Chapter 41

“Ah, your eyes are finally open. Mother would be pleased” said a voice from somewhere beside him.

Thorin sat up straight then cursed, as his head swam in pain. It seems he was placed on a bed in an unfamiliar hut. He put a hand to his head and groaned as he tried to remember what happened before.

They were at the tower and had just defeated an ogre, when darkspawn came swarming in.

The dwarf looked up and saw the same witch they have met back at the Wilds. She looked at him not with concern for the injured, but as if he was a big, ugly slug that landed on her doorstep. Morrigan.

“What happened to the darkspawn?” he asked the witch.

Morrigan explained that her mother rescued them from the tower. When he asked about the outcome of the battle, she answered that the king and his army were all dead, because Loghain quit the field instead of responding to their signal.

Thorin just stared at her as she informed him that Duncan and the other Grey Wardens had also died. When he stayed silent, she added that her mother would want to see him if he was ready.

“Thank you for your help, Morrigan.”

“I…”Morrigan stumbled, caught off balance by the unexpected courtesy. “You are welcome, though Mother did all the work, as I am no healer,” she said, a little friendly now. She added that she will be outside cooking should he need anything and informed him that the other wardens are also outside.

When she was gone, Thorin looked around and saw Mahariel watching over Brosca and Tabris, who were still unconcious. He put on his armor and went near them, asking Mahariel if what Morrigan said were true.

“It is as she said,” the elf answered. She told the dwarf that when the darkspawn surrounded them, something massive broke a hole in the wall, knocking them unconcious by the flying debris. Next thing she remembered, she and them were flying over Ostagar, the army below falling under waves and waves of darkspawn.

“Flying? How do you mean?” Thorin asked.

Mahariel just shook her head. “Magic. Do not ask how. I cannot say.”

Thorin thought not to press her, when he saw her look terrified. He can ask her later. “Who else were here?”

“All of us in the tower. The mages are outside with the human warrior. You may want to talk to him. It seems he is not taking the Warden Commander’s death very well.”

He replied he’d do just that and was about to leave her to his task. He will need to talk more than grief with Alistair, now that their commander was gone. However, Mahariel called him back.

“Be careful around Morrigan’s mother. She is more than she seems, whatever she may look like” the elf warned.

* * *

Elissa woke up in the hut, trying to remember what happened. She sat up, rubbing her head, trying to figure out what happened, how she ended here. Her memory’s been spotty for the past few days. She had a vague sense of time passing, meeting new people, doing strange things and feeling that she’s mostly sleepwalking even when awake. It seems that yesterday, there was a tower, some thing coming in, hands reaching out for her-

__-Her hands reaching out for them, as her parents look at her, as she was dragged away into darkness-_ _

__-“Go. Do us proud. We love you darling, you and Fergus……We…love you..so much.”-_ _

She curled against herself, as these memories washed over her in devastating clarity. She almost screamed, as the images and sounds from the tower collided with those from the castle, wanting to scream them both into oblivion.

But that is not befitting a Cousland. Especially a lady.

She must not go mad. Because her parents last words is for her to make them proud. And her brother is counting on her to find him.

As the visions subsided, she remembered the lessons her mother taught her about being a lady. Even in difficult circumstances, a lady must never show anything improper. And madness is certainly one of them.

She took a moment to compose herself, following the teachings of her mother, the only thing keeping her sane from the darkness that threathen to engulf her. 


	42. Chapter 42

Thorin found the ex-templar outside just as the witch said.

“You…you’re alive! I thought you were dead for sure.” Alistair said as he saw him. His eyes were red, strained from the effort of trying not to cry.

“It seems my wounds were that bad, then?”

Alistair nodded. “This doesn’t seem real. If it weren’t Morrigan’s mother, we’d be dead on top of the tower.”

“Do not talk about me as if I am not present, lad,” said a voice behind them.

Alistair jumped and turned around to face the old woman.

“I didn’t mean….” Alistair started to say but faltered. “But what would we call you? You never told us your name.”

“Names are pretty, but useless. The Chasind folk call me Flemeth. I suppose it will do,” she answered.

 “Flemeth? The Witch of the Wilds? You were the Witch of the Wilds weren’t you?” Alistair said, getting alarmed.

“And what does that mean?  I know a bit of magic and it has served you well has it not?”

 “Thank you for your help, with the documents and now this,” Thorin interrupted before Alistair gives her a reason to kick them and the invalids out of her hut for being ingrates.

 “If you know what is good for you, I suppose you should!” the old woman cackled. Thorin still thought her odd but remembered Mahariel’s warning to be careful around her. He asked her if she knew anything about what happened at the battle. She replied that the main body of the darkspawn had moved on and they were safe for now. However, their enemy will eventually find them if they did not move away from here immediately. So she asked them about what they're going to do next.

“Loghain should be brought to judgement!” Alistair said, getting angry at the name of the teyrn. “Why would he do this?”

 “Men’s heart hold shadows darker than any tainted creature. Perhaps he believe the Blight is something he can outmaneuver, not seeing the evil behind the true threat,” Flemeth suggested.

“The Archdemon,” Alistair said.

Thorin turned to Alistair. “Do you have any idea where we could get allies?”

Alistair thought for a moment then he remembered. “Of course. The treaties! Grey Wardens can demand aid from elves, dwarves, mages and other places. They’re obligated to help us in the Blight.”

“Those papers we got at the ruins? You have the documents?”

“I have them here. Duncan gave it to me for safekeeping. I was supposed to take it to his tent but I forgot. I had it with me when we went to the tower,” Alistair answered, about to cry again at the remembrance of his mentor.

“Good. What about the other Grey Wardens? I thought the order has many chapters across Thedas?” Thorin asked quickly, before Alistair’s mood drop completely.  

“There is the Orlesian wardens as you know. But with Loghain alive, he might not allow them to cross the border. And the others would be in Weisshaupt in the Anderfels.”

“Anyone else?”

"There’s the Arl of Redcliffe. Arl Eamon wasn’t at Ostagar, he still has all of his men. And he was Cailan’s uncle. I know him. He’s a good man.” Alistair brightened at the name of the Arl of Redcliffe before becoming angry again. “If the arl knew what Loghain had done, he would never stand for it. The Landsmeet would never stand for it. There would be civil war.”

Thorin made a mental note to steer them away from getting vengeance. It would not be smart to use those troops to start a war with the Blight underway. “Then we could go to him, see if he can help us.”

“So you are set then, ready to be Grey Wardens?” Flemeth asked them, looking from one to the other.

“As ready was we ever be. Now you said the darkspawn would be coming here. I suppose you know the way out of the Wilds?” he asked her.

“I can offer you more than a guide. Consider this as payment for all I had done for you,” she said, calling Morrigan to her.


	43. Chapter 43

“We can’t leave yet”

The group turned to Elissa. After they were all healed and back on their feet, they left Flemeth’s hut and quickly trudged into the Wilds, with Morrigan guiding them. She advised stopping at a northern town called Lothering to resupply before they think about what to do next.  

“We have to find Fergus, my brother. He’s around here somewhere,” the noblewoman explained.

 “Then attempting to look for him would be foolish. He is either dead or managed to flee north,” Morrigan said carelessly.

The girl’s dark eyes flashed. “If saving people isn’t important to you, what about saving an ally? My brother is Fergus Cousland, the present Teyrn of Highever. He can raise the troops you need to fight the Blight, just as good as Arl Eamon.”

They all stared at her.

“What….is the Teyrn’s sister doing in the Grey Wardens?” Amadeus asked. His recruitment wasn’t so innocent after all and he wondered what would make a noble like her join an order of the dying.

“Ask Duncan. He’s as bad as you are, asking payment for his help,” the girl spat.

“Hey, no bad-mouthing Duncan, now that he’s…he’s..” Alistair is struggling to speak.

“While he’s searching for his tongue, I stand by what I’ve said. I repeat, it’s very foolish to mount a rescue when you have no notion of where the man is. You either find him outside the Wilds or not at all,” said the witch, still unconcerned.

“So what? I shouldn’t look for him?” Elissa asked her.

“That’s exactly what it means.” Morrigan eyed her, coolly. “You wished to do your brother a service? Avenge him. The time to look for survivors will come later.”

Elissa looked ready to brain her when Thorin stepped in before she kills their only way out of the Wilds.

“She’s right. It’s dangerous to be wandering in the Wilds, with darkspawn at our heels,” Thorin said. Elissa glared at him while the witch looked over at them both, still smug.

“Well if you don’t want to find him, fine, I’m going myself.” Elissa turned to go.

“Yerna gonna survive alone out there.”

“I am not going to abandon my family again!”

“Do you trust your brother?” Thorin shouted at her. She turned around to answer him.

“Yes of course.”

“Then trust that he have got out of the Wilds. As for us, we’ll be in a better position to know news of him after we got out ourselves. There’ll be survivors, like us, who might have seen him and they will also be getting out of the Wilds.”

She still looks ready to leave.

“I swear to you, we will find him,” Thorin added.

“On your honor?”

“I solemnly swear, to find your brother. May the Stone bear witness.”

She thought a moment or two before she said “I accept your vow.”

“Are you done? I suggest we go on before the darkspawn find us,” the witch interrupted.

Women. Bah.  


	44. Chapter 44

If he thought he’d play the second to Alistair like Gorim was to him, he was wrong. It’s been days and the human never so much as look at the road to watch for danger, still moping about Duncan. Thorin tried asking him more about the Wardens, their headquarters, their outposts, the group structure, how are they supplied, how they communicate, how they deal with the locals and about Lothering, but all he got were mumbling answers. He left him in his moping, instead directing the others to watch for darkspawn, rally the stragglers, set up a perimeter when they had to rest (Neria particularly need that. She had never walked so far before so she had to be carried most of the time by Brosca. So exhausted was she that she looked dead) and draw a watch. Some of them resent him for that, Brosca particularly. The dwarf looked at him insolently, like the casteless he is, but as long as Brosca doesn’t act on it, he ignored it. On top of that, he had to deal with possible desertions. Some of them looked ready to bolt, like the aforementioned Brosca and most especially, Elissa. She still thought about searching for her brother in the Wilds, and any cross word would probably push her to it. Mahariel is no better. Easy to tell she wants out, as she kept her distance and glared at anyone trying to approach her.

Thankfully, they were out of the Wilds and on the road to Lothering.

There was a barricade made of broken carts and some men idling about. One of them spotted them and tapped his friend’s shoulder. “Wake up, more travelers to attend to. Led by a dwarf, oddly enough” as Thorin came near. More bandits appeared behind the carts.

 One of them looked over the bloodstained armors, the heavy weapons and the wild look that spoke of battle and said “Er…they don’t look much like them others, you know. Uh, maybe we should let them these ones pass.”

“Nonsense!” his friend replied. At their approach, he said “Greetings, travelers!”

“Highwaymen. Preying on those fleeing darkspawn, I suppose,” Alistair whispered as he put a hand on the hilt of his sword.

__Finally, the boy’s senses came back._ _

“They are fools to get in our way. I say we teach them a lesson,” said Morrigan, her staff raised.

“Now, is that any way to greet someone?” said the bandit, in an insulted tone. “Ten silvers and you’re ready to move on.”

 “You should probably listen to your friend, there. We’re not refugees,” Tabris replied.

 “What did I tell you? No wagons and this one looked armed!” said the observant bandit.

__“__ The toll applies to everyone, Hanric. That’s why it’s a toll, not a refugee tax.”

“Wait, you’re toll collectors?” Elissa did not catch what Alistair said.

“Ye-es, we do that. We use what we collect to repair the bridge. ”

She looked dubiously at the dilapidated road. “You don’t make a good job of it.”

The man shrugged. “Everyone’s still gotta pay. So ten silvers?”

“I’m sorry. We haven’t got the money, have we?” she asked the others.

“You still gotta pay though,” he replied, eyeing her figure.

Neria’s temper flared. “Do you really want to fight Grey Wardens?”

“Did she say Grey Wardens? Them ones killed the king!” one of the bandits said, a trembling finger pointed at them.

All of them blinked at his words.

The leader looked them over one by one. “Traitors to Ferelden, I hear. Teryn Loghain put a bounty on any who are found. What do you say, gents? With that king of bounty, we can retire. Let’s be heroes to our Kingdom!” said the bandit leader, drawing his sword.

Clearly someone was skimping on the intelligence when He made His creations.

When the last bandit fell, Tabris and Brosca set to work rifling through the bandits’ pockets for any valuables. Elissa saw what they were doing, and huffed. “Stealing from the dead? That’s not very honorable of you, is it?”

“Well, it’s not like they’re going to be needing it anymore,” Tabris said, as he pulled a pouch of coins from the dead man’s pockets.   
“That is true. The dead do not concern themselves with material possessions. And besides, we must care for our own,” Mahariel said, as she walked past the stunned Elissa and promptly snatched a necklace from the dead bandit’s neck.

Meanwhile, Neria was kicking the lead bandit’s body, screaming curses.

“You!-” (kick) “ worthless!-” (kick) “stupid!-(kick) “idiot!-(kick) , who (kick) you calling (kick) traitor(kick)?! We didn’t (kick) get chased by darkspawn (kick) so idiot scum- like you-(kick) can call us-(kick)- traitor!"

“Neria, stop kicking that. You’ll break your foot,” said Tabris mildly, holding up an amulet to see if the stone is worth anything.

Neria stopped, looked at him for one moment, then started beating the corpse with her staff, still yelling her head off.  

Thorin frowned at the whole scene. He didn’t approve looting either, but then he have got out of the Deep Roads wearing a dead man’s armor. And they’re not going to receive any help from Weisshaupt anytime soon, if he understood Alistair’s mumbling replies correctly.

“You heard that didn’t you? Teryn Lo-well I shouldn’t call him that, he doesn’t deserve the title- __Loghain__ called us traitor and put a bounty on us!” Elissa said to him.

Amadeus was trying to wrestle the staff from Neria, yelling “Are you mad? That’s a magical object, not a stick!” Tabris and Brosca have moved on to the barrels and crates.

 “He’s clever. Put the blame and a bounty on the witnesses and desperate people would murder them before they can speak in their defense. With a bounty, the whole country will be watching for us without him having to spare men to hunt us down. It’s best then we don’t go around announcing we’re wardens,” the dwarf answered Elissa, still frowning at the scene.

Neria was able to wrest her staff and started beating Amadeus instead. He put up a shield, but not before Neria had scored some hits on his head.

Elissa waved her hand in front of her, as if waving away a bad smell. “I don’t understand how you can be so calm about all of this. The one who abandoned the battle and left the king to die is calling us a traitor. If there is a traitor, that’s him. The nobility won’t keep quiet if they knew the truth. We should go to Denerim, clear our names.”

Tabris called out to Neria, saying she should check the pocket of the bandit leader. She did as he asked, then with a whoop, she pulled out a heavy money pouch and shook it. By the sound of the coins clicking together, there must be a hundred silvers in it.

 Going to Denerim would be a terrible idea. __Might as well surrender now and save the trouble of having to walk there.__ “Aren’t you going to look for you brother?” Thorin asked.

Elissa covered her face with her hand. “Oh dear Fergus. I forgot about him. I thought you’ll be looking for him. Well, we should go to Denerim after we find him.” She paused, looking around at her companions. “This is so terrible, everyone blaming us for something we didn’t do.”

Thorin gave a sidelong look at her. __You don’t say.__


	45. Chapter 45

“Ah, Lothering, pretty as a picture,” Alistair said, his first cheerful comment of many days, as he gazed at the town below, his companions joining him on the landing beside the old Tevinter Road. Lothering is just like any typical small town, a few huts here and there, fields of crops and pastures and a Chantry far off. Although now, it’s full to bursting with an encampment erected by refugees before it, drawn to the town as the Wardens were.

Unfortunately for him, some would rather be the dark clouds on a sunny day. “Ah so you decided to rejoin us, haven’t you? Falling on you blade in grief seems too much trouble I take it?” Morrigan jeered at him.

“Is my being upset so hard to understand? Have you never lost someone important to you? Just what would you do if your mother died?” Alistair shot back.

“Before or after I stopped laughing?”

“Right. Very creepy, forget I asked.”

“That’s very mean of you Morrigan. Leave him alone,” Elissa said to the witch.

“But how can I? He is right there, speaking, eyes wide like a brainless calf.”

The brainless calf is definitely bellowing now. “Oh, so this is the part where we’re shocked to discover why you’ve never had a friend in your entire life!”

“I can be friendly when I desire to. Alas, desiring to be more intelligent does not make it so.”

“If you two done snarling at each other I suggest both of you think hard about where to go from here,” Thorin snapped. He had been dealing with the moping and the snide comments all the way from the Wilds and he’s finally had enough.

Alistair looked apologetic. “You’re right. I’ve been meaning to ask you about that. These treaties, have you looked at them?”

He had not. During their flight from the Wilds, he had too many things to think about while some people moped. Luckily, they had a pickpocket who was bored during the forced march and decided to amuse himself by stealing from the distracted.

“They say something about some deal the Grey Wardens have with the Circle of Magi, the Dalish, the Arl of Redcliffe and Orzammar,” Tabris said, unfurling the treaties, while Thorin searched his pockets and came up empty.  

“That’s basically it. I think Arl Eamon is our best bet for help. We might want to go to him first,” Alistair said, as Thorin snatched the papers out of Tabris’ hands and glared at the elf.

“If you say so. Then, lead on.” Thorin said, pocketing the treaties, then he stepped aside to make way for him.

The group looked at Alistair, waiting for him to move.

“Why-Why are you looking at me?” Alistair said to them, panic flitting over his face.

“You’re Senior Warden,” Thorin prompted. He may be younger than him and more inexperienced, but he is still senior in rank.

His answer only moved the ex-templar close to a breakdown. “I-I can’t deal with this. I don’t want to lead! I don’t want the-the-now that Duncan’s dead.”  

“Alistair, I know their deaths were hard for you. But they would want you to continue their mission. You have lead us to stop the Blight and make their sacrifices matter.” Thorin said to him, gently but firmly. This is not the time to fall apart now.

“I know. But I can’t lead! I don’t know how to do that,” Alistair replied, visibly shaking. Then he looked at Thorin. “You can, though. You lead.”

“Wait a soddin minute. Why’re ye leavin it up to him?” Brosca nodded at Thorin, who was looking at Alistair.

“You had a better idea?” Thorin asked Brosca, wearily.

“Yea, I gotta idea. It's y _ _er not the boss of us.__ ”

“Considering he practically led us in the Wilds, the tower siege and the flight from Ostagar, I think that makes him the boss,” Amadeus pointed out. He had no problems about Thorin taking charge, since he knew more about what to do while none of them, including Alistair thought about anything beyond immediate problems.

“Aye he did all that but we gotta Senior Warden here, ain't a recruit as us.” Brosca just didn’t like working with nobles, unless he got paid for it.

Alistair held up his hands. “Don’t look at me. I don’t know where we should go. I’ll do whatever he decides.”

“Now that is unsurprising,” Morrigan sneered.

“ _ _Morrigan…__ ” Thorin began, a warning in his voice.

Elissa said quickly, “I think if you’ve got a problem with him leading, I suggest we take a vote, like in a Landsmeet.”

“Yea, let’s soddin vote. I say nay to him as boss.”

“I vote yes,” Elissa said.

“Amen to that.” Tabris added.

Neria shrugged. “Don’t care, as long as it’s not the 'brainless calf'.”

“Hey!”

“He is competent enough. I shall permit it.” Mahariel said, looking at Thorin with those gray-green eyes untroubled like a forest river. __She’d still desert given the chance, though.__

Morrigan harrumphed. “Oh you and your little trifles. Very well, I shall follow him. At least __he__  doesn’t look foolish doing it.”

“We’re not askin ye.”

“Well he did lead us rather well,” Amadeus admitted.

“So, Thorin will lead then,” Elissa said as Brosca muttered “Son of a nug. Yer all gone soft in the head.”

Thorin straigthened the crumpled treaties. "So here’s what we’re going to do. We’ll resupply here then enforce this treaties while making sure Loghain never caught up to us.” Instead of questions or protests, they were awfully silent.

He looked up and looked at them all, surprised.

“We don’t want you to think we’re cowards or anything,” began Tabris “but…we’re not exactly cut out to stop the Blight. We’re just…” he looked at them all and knew that he didn’t know much about his companions- “we’ve just met days ago. You saw what happened to the other Wardens. They were all killed by the darkspawn and we barely got out the tower ourselves.”

Thorin turned to Morrigan and said “Morrigan, we appreciate it if you watch for the road to Lothering.”

“Why must I be the one to-”the witch stopped as she thought more about it “-if you want me gone while you talk among yourselves, you need only ask, not invent some flimsy excuse.”

“Please.”

The witch looked at the dwarf for a moment then shrugged. “As you wish.” She walked away from them and went to watch on the steps down to Lothering, out of earshot.

“She’s no fool, that one,” Tabris commented.

They watched her go then Elissa spoke to Tabris. “Are you really saying that? You’re going to leave?” She looked at them one by one, disbelief in her face when most of them agreed with Tabris rather than her. “Why are you doing this? You weren’t like this when we went to the tower.”

“What changed is that Duncan died. Before, we followed because we had someone who knew what they were doing. But Duncan is dead, and…we don’t exactly know each other. I mean, we’re just recruits days ago. None of us-except you Thorin-has been in real combat before.” Alistair did not try to divert attention to himself.

Elissa looked at Thorin to see if he will contradict Tabris, but the dwarf stayed silent. So she asked them “Don’t you owe something to Duncan at least?”

“Duncan’s dead and we might end up the same way if we just go about this without thinking first,” Amadeus cut in.

Elissa shook her head at them all. “I can’t believe this. I can’t believe you’re all….cowards.”

“Ain’t no coward. Is bein smart, that’s all.”

Mahariel said “I admit it is rather difficult to stop the Blight with no allies, no other warriors and with this shemlen lord hunting us down.”

“We can barely kill an ogre. But you think we can fight the Archdemon?” Tabris added.  

Elissa pleaded with the dwarf. “Thorin, do something. Anything.”

“What? Knock their heads about? Yell myself hoarse?”

“You too?”

Thorin let out a sigh then said. “We’re Wardens. There’s no taking that back. We vowed to fight the darkspawn, whether it was our choice or not. However, what we can choose is how we go about fulfilling that duty.” He looked at them in the eyes, reminding them that they may run now, but they can never outrun the Taint that is in them.  “Alistair here said we can stop the Blight ourselves. There is another option. You can cross the border to Orlais, regroup with the Orlesian Wardens. They would know how to stop the Blight and kill the Archdemon.”

The others brightened at his suggestion. Elissa, however, stared at him in shock and disbelief, muttering “I can’t believe this. You of all people..”

“However, I want you to know what will happen if you leave. All of this"-he gestured to the town and surrounding area- “will be overrun by darkspawn, just as it did in Ostagar. Because there are no wardens left here to stop them. You saw how fast the darkspawn move. The people left here will die, and this country will turn to rot, because when you arrive with the Orlesians, it will be too late. Now, I’m asking you: Can you live with that?”

They stayed silent as they thought about it. Then Tabris spoke softly. “Our choices really suck. All right, we’ll fight.” then he muttered to himself “Shit, we are definitely going to die.”

“Aye.” No point for Brosca to go to Orlais alone. Either they all went or not at all.

“Whatever.”

“Fine.” Amadeus has a plan for his life, and he figured it wouldn't work with the Orlesians.

Mahariel just nodded. Thorin left them a moment to feel the enormity of their decision before continuing where he left off. “We will resupply here in Lothering. We’ll be splitting up, gather information. Know anything that will help us. Ask the people for news from the battle, which roads are safe, which people can help us and which will likely kill us. I want to know more about this bounty. I don’t want surprises like this one,” he said, nudging the dead bandit by his boot-“and do that while not giving away that you’re wardens. Also, buy some food and see if you can find any armor. Use what you got from the bandits-” a collective groan of dismay went around “-I am serious. Use that to buy supplies. Then we’ll meet up here come sundown and then we’ll talk about where we’re going. “He looked over them all. “Are we all clear?”

The group murmered their assent. “Soddin orders. I hope yall don’t regret makin him boss,” Brosca muttered.

“Find out some news of my brother for me.” Elissa said to Neria and the others.

“And whatever you do, don’t start a fight.”


	46. Chapter 46

Of course they had to start a fight. Because someone is thirsty.

Brosca said he needed a drink and when Tabris offered the waterskin, he said “a proper drink.”So they entered the only tavern in town, minding their own business when a group of armed men took one look at them and shot out of their chairs.

“Didn’t we spend all morning asking about a dwarf by this very description? And every one said they haven’t seen one,” said one of the soldiers.

“Uh..we..we don’t know him. We just met him today, happened to enter the tavern after him. Don’t mind us, elves,” Tabris said as he scooted himself and Neria away from Brosca.

“Soddin thanks.”

“Hey! They look like the elves we’re looking for.”

“Nope, you’ve got the wrong elves. We elves all look alike, you see.” He put his face side by side with the struggling Neria, who he held still by the chin.

The leader looked them over, slowly. “It seems we were lied to.” The commander drew his sword.

“Gentlemen, surely there is no need for trouble. These are no doubt simply poor souls seeking refuge,” a pleasant voice cut in. It came from a red-haired pretty young woman dressed in Chantry robes.

 _ _Andraste alive.__ Tabris wanted to kiss her, but that would be a profanity. Maybe an air kiss, instead?

The leader turned to her and snarled. “They’re more than that. Stay out of the way, sister. You protect these traitors, you’ll get the same as them.”

 _ _“__ Surely this was all a misunderstanding, yes?” she with the funny accent said.

“I was there at Ostagar, where the teryn saved us from the Grey Warden’s treachery. I serve him gladly” the soldier said proudly.

“He’s hallucinating, isn’t he?” Neria asked.

“Nah, mebbe this Loghain wacked him on the head so hard he speaks shite.”

“Don’t make him angry, idiots!” Tabris cried out but too late. The soldiers drew their weapons. “Enough talk! Take these wardens into custody. Kill the sister and anyone who gets in our way” the commander shouted as he drew his sword.

 _ _I swear, I’ll never enter another bar.__ Tabris ducked and wove under the tables and chairs while Brosca smashed everything and anyone within reach. “No firespells, Neria!”

“Ugh! You’re such a downer!” she shot spell on the soldier in front of her, then leapt from table to table as the soldiers tried to catch her. “But this is fun too!” She shot a cold spell at the soldier, freezing him and blocking the way for his mates. They were sitting ducks for Brosca’s greatsword.

The pretty sister joined them in the fight. He saw the other people standing there, just watching like this was a show. __I hope you enjoy this, bastards.__

The sister was actually a good fighter. She was engaging two of their enemies right now. Her pretty blue eyes sparkled with exertion, rosy-white skin flushing with emotion and fiery red hair fluttering in the air as she-

Tabris slipped. A sword swung near his head, which he barely evaded by rolling under the table. He then buried his blades on the soldier’s ankle. __Great, I’m fighting like a coward because I can’t keep my eyes away from a pretty girl.__ He heard Neria on the table above him, laughing like the witch she was, firing spell after spell like one demented.

“Hey! A little help here!” Brosca was having a hard time with the commander. Neria shot a frost spell at his enemy, which slowed the soldier down. Brosca was about to lop his head off when he screamed- “Stop! You’ve won! I surrender!”

“Good.” The sister sheathed her daggers. “They’ve learned their lesson and we could stop fighting now.”

Neria jumped down from the table and shoved a small finger on the commander’s chest. “Just so you know, the Grey Warden’s didn’t betray the king. That stupidhead Loghain did!”

“I was there! The teryn pulled us out of the trap,” the commander protested.

“Trap? What trap?”

“Ye been eatin piles of nug shit. There ain’t no trap, until he soddin made one for the king!”

“The wardens led the king to his death! The teryn could do nothing!”

“All right, tell me why we haven’t killed yet this piece of….nugshit?” Neria said, holding her staff inches away from the man’s nose.

“No! He surrendered. You can’t just kill him” pleaded the sister.

Neria snarled. “Why is everyone a spoilsport?”

Tabris sighed. Why does everyone and everything trying to kill them? “Take a message to Loghain. Tell him…okay what do we tell him?”

“I got this.” said Brosca. He sat on a chair and crossed his arms. “Tell him..I think of his face everytime I take a shit. ”

 “Really, Brosca?”

“ It helps gettin it all out. Well, that’s what I tell dem nobles who don’t pay up. Why, whaddye tell dem nobles here?”

“Oooohh! Me! Ask me!”

“Alright, Neria.”

“Tell him…tell him his nose is so big, we can shove an ogre in there.”

“I knew it.”

 _ _Alright, Tabris, this is your chance to be cool in front of the sister.__ He used his most menacing voice.“Tell Loghain, that we know what really happened and we will not stand by and let those soldiers die unavenged. We will bring him to justice, and we...we will be coming for him.”

Neria and Brosca looked at him wide-eyed, then started clapping. So did the patrons. The sister smiled. __Well, getting into fights isn’t so bad after all.__

When the soldiers have left, the sister approached them. “I am glad you have found it in your heart to offer those men mercy.”

“Yeah, for them, mercy, from my heart. For you, I just might give it whole. Uh, you know, for Andraste.” Neria looked at him like he’s lost his mind while Brosca frowned, asking “who’s Andraste?”

The sister just smiled. “I am Lelianna. I am one of the lay sisters of the chantry here in Lothering. Or I was.”

“Was?”

“I joined the Chantry to live a life of religious contemplation but I am no priest, just an initiate.”

“That’s…..great then. That’s very great. Uh, I mean I wouldn’t want to know that the priest who’s leading the chant suddenly whip out her knives and shout”- he said it in a falsetto-“ _I suppose violence is a solution, sometimes!_ ”

She laughed. “You are very strange. But then, they say you are a Grey Warden.”

__Oh, not again. Thorin will kill us if we admitted._ _

“Uh, I’m sorry, but we’re not. We’re really not….Grey Wardens. We’re”-he looks at the two-”we’re just servants, really. Haha. No one would dream that elves and dwarves would join the Grey Wardens. It isn’t a circus. Okay, time to move, Master’s waiting,” He starts pushing Neria and Brosca towards the door but the sister stopped them. “I’ve seen you fight and it is not those of a servant.”

“There’s a lot of bandits out there, Sister. We have to know how to protect ourselves. Look, I’m sorry, but we really must get going.”

“But the Maker wants me to join you.”

“What?”

“Really, more lunatics?”

“Whatsa maker?”

The sister ignored his companion’s incredulous faces. “I know that sounds absolutely insane. But it’s true, I had a dream. A vision.” She explained about her dream. When she was finished, Tabris said “Uhm, look I believe you. But, it’s really not our say. __And we’re not Grey Wardens__ ” he said, nodding at the people around.

“Oh. Then can you take me to your master, then?”

They were nearly out the door when the barkeep yelled “Oy! You gotta pay for the broken tables, Grey Wardens!”


	47. Chapter 47

Amadeus suggested that they ask the Reverend Mother to send a letter to Weisshaupt, if Thorin so badly want orders. He suggested convincing her to send their letter with theirs bound for their chapter in Orlais, then on to the Orlesian Warden’s headquarters.

“Even Loghain wouldn’t dare intercept Chantry mail,” he said, scowling. As for him, he had no interest looking the inside of a Chantry again so Thorin, Elissa and Alistair went inside the building while the rest went to barter. 

They were not going to the Chantry Mother only to ask for help. With the horde probably coming to Lothering, Thorin thought it would be better that the Chantry Mother should be the one to tell the people to flee instead of them. That way, there is less risk being found out by Loghain. He also suspected that they would not be believed anyway, and instead the people might attack them because of the bounty on their heads. No, it is better to inform the Chantry Mother and hope for the best.

As they had finished talking with some knights from Redcliffe, they heard someone calling them.

“Thorin! Thorin! Look what we have!”

Thorin turned around and saw Neria and the two walking towards them, with an unfamiliar woman. She wore the same robes as the ones they call sisters. When Tabris introduced her and explained that she’ll be joining them, he flipped.

“What part of my instructions involve getting a chantry sister?” He needed allies, not another body to manage. It didn’t help that they met her in a tavern when they should be doing their jobs.

“Ye said find people who can help. She’s helpin.”

Thorin looked at the sister and asked, “So…….Leliana. What makes you want to join us?”

Sister Leliana explained her vision of the rose then concluded “Look at the people here. They are lost in their despair, this darkness, this chaos. What you do is Maker’s work. Let me help.”

“More crazy? I thought we’re full up,” Alistair said, with a look at Neria.

She scoffed. “We’re full on __stupid__ with you here.”

Thorin looked at the sister longer and said “Thank you for the offer but we need more than prayers.”

“Maker’s breath, Thorin. We’re in the __Chantry__. Don’t say that out loud,” Alistair whispered.

 “Well, we’re building an army, aren’t we?” Neria cut in.  “She can fight! You should’ve seen her. When she attacks, her enemies were like-Woah! And they’re like Woah! And they’re like Woahhhhhh” she said, finishing with a drooling parody of the dying.

“Yep. Her fighting skills is very Woahhh,” said Tabris.

Thorin ignored them, still looking at Lelianna. “It’ll be dangerous. And it may cost you your life.”

“I am prepared for that. I will gladly offer my life if it will spare these people from suffering.”

 Thorin thought for a moment, then said “Welcome to the Grey Warden company, Leliana.”

“Then perhaps your skull is cracked worse than Mother thought,” Morrigan’s voice cut through the hubbub like a whip. Thorin turned to her and saw the others approaching them with Mahariel wrangling something metallic in her hands.

“I thought we’d be meeting in the roads,” he asked when they were near enough.

“And so we agreed. But it seems this pretentious establishment has to be involved. I should have expected it, as it is always intruding on where it is not wanted.”  

“All right, that’s it! You two have your fun mocking the building we’re in. I’m not going to be surprised if they threw you out.” Alistair went to one of the pews to finish writing the letter.

 Thorin continued his questioning. “What is it now?”

“There’s a Qunari imprisoned in the town square for murder. He says he will join us if we free him to atone for his crimes,” explained Amadeus.

Elissa suddenly became alarmed. “Qunari? What’s one doing here?”

“He says his company got sent by their Arishok to investigate the Blight. Instead, they got ambushed by bandits and he was the only survivor. Some farmers tended to his wounds but when he woke up, he got confused. When the farmers approached him, he killed them and their family.”

“If the imprisonment is his punishment then I don’t see why we should help him escape from it,” Thorin said.

“I have seen this Qunari,” Leliana began.“It is true what was said about the murder. However, his punishment was also being left here for darkspawn, and that is too cruel, even for a murderer.”

“So we set him free and that’s it?”

“No. If he is freed, it is to join us, or not at all,” Morrigan explained.

Elissa cut in. “I’ve heard about the Qunari. They’ve not from Thedas and they tried to invade here 300 years ago. It was only by treaty that they were stopped, and only by giving up Seheron and Par Vollen and through concessions in Rivain and Antiva. They still try to conquer, though, sometimes by sending their agents to…..spy.”

Tabris looked dubious. “So you say this Qunari may be spying? That doesn’t make any sense. Shouldn’t they be sending someone not obviously…… Qunari?”

“Yes. But I heard something from Father about spying. He said one trick is to do something so overt, it’s covert.”  

“Okaaay. That really clears the issue.”

“I know it’s difficult to explain, but I think we should leave him where he is.”

Thorin was silent. He has still no idea what a Qunari is, and the supposed invasions hadn’t been talked about back in Orzammar. “Thoughts?”

“He shouldn’t be coming,” Elissa said flatly.

“Qunari are said to be great warriors. We need his skills.” Amadeus said. He knew Qunari are worse than the Chantry when it comes to mages, but he isn’t going to let an opportunity to examine them up close slip by.

“I say no. He sounds like a nutcase. What if he murders us because we woke him up too early or something?” Tabris asked.

“If he can fight, he’s in,” says Brosca.

“He must pay for his crimes. Imprisonment is his atonement,” Mahariel said.

“Hmm? A Qunari? I’ve never seen one before. Though I don’t really mind if he’s coming either way,” Neria shrugged.

“What do ye say, witch?”

“What, so you can mock me again?”

“Ah come on. I was kiddin last time. It was him ye wanted to lead, right? Well, there he is,” Brosca said, nodding at Thorin.

“Save your breath, dwarf. I will not join in your little games. Leave me be.”

“Aye, but what if we get killed by dem darkspawn because someone refused to let a Qunari come with us?”

“That is simply your failing. I cannot be blamed for your weakness.”    

“Not blamin anyone. I’m just sayin some might die because they shouda asked someone.”

Morrigan considered this. “Very well. A proud being have no right being caged by fools.”

“Ye still don’t count.”

“I hate you.”

“Ignore him, Morrigan,” Thorin said, putting a hand to his face.

Leliana held her hands in supplication “Oooh, do I count? He must come with us. Everyone deserves to be given a second chance.”

Thorin turned to Amadeus. “That’s it then. He’’ll come with us. How do we get him out?”

“He says the Reverend Mother may be persuaded to set him free if we tell him he’ll join us.”

“Is he right, Leliana?”

“She will let him out if he vows to help stop the Blight.  The Revered Mother is a patron of forgiveness.”

Morrigan scoffed. “Tis more like she is a patron of cruelty.”

“She should go with you” Amadeus said to Thorin, nodding at Lelianna and cutting short a fight between the two women. He put a pouch of coins to his hand, saying “Give this first. It’ll sweeten their temper.” Thorin nodded and went to Alistair, who had finished the letter. He went with Lelianna into the Mother’s presence chamber.

The conference with the Reverend Mother went long. Elissa came by to chat with Alistair. “What were you writing back there Alistair?”

Alistair whispered “Oh that. It’s a letter to the other Wardens, telling them about what happened here and ask for help from Weisshaupt. It’s going to pass through the Orlesian Wardens.”

“What? We’re working with Orlesians now?”

“They’re still grey wardens, even if they’re Orlesian.”

“First, Qunari. Then Orlesians. Loghain would have more support, if he found out we were working with them.”

“Well, it’s not like we have many choices to get help from.”

She was about to speak but the door opened and Thorin and Leliana came walking out.

“So? How did it go?”

“The Qunari is coming with us.”


	48. Chapter 48

Somewhere off the road they gathered to make camp and also to exchange news.

“The roads are still open, though they say some darkspawn was spotted on the way to Redcliffe,” Amadeus reported.

“We ran into a knight of Arl Eamon who said the arl was ill with a mysterious sickness and the only possible cure is the Urn of Sacred Ashes. They suggested to find Brother Genetivi who’s staying in Denerim,” Elissa said.

Amadeus sat up. “The Brother Genetivi? The one who wrote T _ _he History of Ferelden?”__

“I think so.”

They talked more about supplies, where the price of lyrium potions shot up and elf root is getting scarce, hoarded or because there’s just too many fighting. The Blight hasn’t spread yet beyond the Wilds, and the remaining army of Ferelden is still mostly concentrated in Denerim and its surrounding areas. It seems some of the nobles doubt Loghain’s story, preventing him to have full authority on the army or unite the arlings and bannorns. It was nice to know that some of them can think, but the lockdown has also allowed the Blight to spread and let the southern lands defenseless.

“We split up. The sooner we can enforce these treaties, the sooner we can stop the Blight,” Thorin said after he considered all their reports. “If we tarry too long, the rot will spread to everything and we wouldn’t have much to save”.

“If we are going to separate, I think it’s best if we assign the people according to how their kind are recieved. Like the Dalish do not like humans approaching them, or humans are prejudiced against elves,” Amadeus suggested.

Thorin nodded. “We also have to get to Redcliffe.”

“Well, you said the arl of Redcliffe can’t be cured unless we get the ashes. Why should we be going there?” Tabris asked.

“He has a brother. If the arl is ill, he’ll be the one to uphold the treaties.”

“We can’t let Arl Eamon die,” Alistair said.

“You heard the knight. The arl has the best healers and priests. There is nothing we can do for him. His brother on the other hand, may be able to help us.”

“I can’t believe you’re still thinking about what you can get while a man is dying.”

“Everyday, people die. The world doesn’t stop working for any man and it will not for the arl. Remember that.”

Alistair scowled at him.   

“We need an outpost, since Loghain is sitting on our headquarters. I’m thinking it will be in Redcliffe. Alistair, Elissa, I think you mentioned knowing the arl?”

The two humans nodded.

“Both of you should go there.”

“What about Fergus?” Elissa asked.

Thorin thought for a moment. “Your brother may have fled to Redcliffe, since no one’s seen him in Lothering. It’s the second nearest town from the Wilds.” If her brother had the brains his god gave him, he may be there. “The circle of magi. Neria and Amadeus?”

“Hey, I’m not going back there. If I see that Tinhead Gregiore and Pastyface Irving again, I’ll swear I’ll blow the tower up,” Neria replied, frowning, her arms crossed.

“That leaves you Amadeus.”

“There’s no choice, is there, since someone can’t be trusted to do it.”

“Oh, are you talking about me? Well, I don’t envy you seeing Irving again, since he did threw you under the wagon.”

“Enough, the both of you! You’ll have time to say your goodbyes but not now,” Thorin intervened.Amadeus glared at Neria while she stuck her tongue at him.

“The Dalish. Obviously, Mahariel goes. But someone still needs to go to Denerim to get reports from our headquarters. Who has been to Denerim?”

Alistair, Elissa and Tabris raised their hands. Lelianna however, looked away.

Tabris said “I haven’t been to Denerim. I grew up in Denerim.”

“Then you go.”

“Uh. Bad idea. Maybe I haven’t mentioned this, but I kinda have a really bad reputation there.”

“How bad?”

“Very. Like killed-the-arl’s-son bad?”

The group gaped at him. After a moment, Elissa asked, softly “Why would you do that?”

He is __not__  going to talk about Shianni. “He crashed my wedding!”

“Haha. Good fer ye, lad. Taught dem uppity nobles a lesson, eh?”

Thorin took a few seconds to close his mouth.

“Alright, Tabris is out. Someone still needs to go there.”

Leliana said quietly. “I could go. I’ve been to Denerim.”

“Lelianna then.”

“What about Orzammar?” Elissa asked.

Thorin isn’t sure he wants to go back to Orzammar yet. “By my count, we don’t have the people. Some of you form teams as you’ll meet bandits or darkspawn on the road.”

Tabris counted with his fingers. “But if we just have three people by each group, we may have another team to go to Orzammar.”

“No. Three is too few and more than four makes everyone lazy,” Thorin answered him. “Alright, Redcliffe group. Alistair, Elissa and…..”

“Morrigan,” Amadeus suggested.

“What?!” Morrigan nearly shot out of her spot. “Do you think I will endure the company of such witless people?”

The witless people glared at her.

“You can’t go to the Circle, the templars will take you. You can’t go to the Brecilian Forest either, the Dalish will shoot you for being human,” Amadeus explained.

“ _ _Everyone__  wants to kill you,” Alistair muttered.

“They are fools to try.”

“We __befriend__  those people, not __kill__  them,” Thorin said, fingers between his brows.

“Very well, if you insist.” Morrigan relented, sinking back in her seat.She crossed her arms and muttered “tis going to be a very long journey.”

“Have fun,” Tabris said cheerfully to the Redcliffe group, earning him glares.

“Alright. Brecilian Group. Mahariel, Neria, Tabris and…Sten?”

“Ye tryna tell somethin there, boss?

“What?”

“Big guy like him goin to little people. Gimme troops or he stomp-stomp. Gaaaaarrrrgh.”

“Then you go, not Sten.”

“Hmph. Hustlin elves when ye’re as short? Not much point. Hehe. Much point.” He air-qouted the last two words.

The three elves stared at him.

“Nevermind.”

“Kinloch Group. That leaves Amadeus, me, Lelianna, Sten. We’ll talk about who goes to Denerim after we uphold each treaty. If there’s no other questions, I suggest you work with each other and prepare what you need. We’ll leave in a few days.”


	49. Chapter 49

Mahariel supervised the setting up of the tents. Brosca was setting his as well as helping Neria, while Tabris is more like fighting it than setting it up. Then Mahariel walked near Alistair.

He was standing beside his still crumpled tent, the mallet in his hands and clearly puzzled as to why his hasn’t taken on a tent shape yet.

“What are you doing?” she asked sharply as she looked at his work.

He flinched. “I’m…..making a tent?”

She snatched the mallet out of his hands and set to work on his tent. “No, you are wasting time. You think it is a game, like children playing house? The people come tired and there is still something to be done and the wolves might come so you do it fast and you cannot be idling!” she said with a final blow on the peg, and his tent stood erect, all ready to be slept in.

“Oh, it’s…all straight now.”

She gave the mallet back to him, then with a final glare at him, walked away to inspect the others.He stood, looking blankly at the well-made tent, the mallet in his hands and then he turned and saw the others staring at him.

“Why is it always me?”

“Oh, take one for the group, Alistair. We really appreciate you taking the heat for us,” Tabris said, now playing with the sticks.

“Right. You owe me, everyone of you.”

“At least ye gotta tent now,” Brosca said, looking sadly as his tent collapsed. Again.

Neria emerged from the rumpled pile and huffed “Who put her in charge, anyway?”

“I did. Because she actually knows what __she’s__  doing.” Thorin said, clearly struggling with his. __Sodding tent. Sodding surface. Why should the sky not act like a proper ceiling and not rain and Stone-sodding what else.__

The witch cackled over them all. “Oh, look how you gnash and scurry about. Tis a pretty sight.” Her “tent” is placed farther away, with its own camp fire, wide open, with just a canopy and some cloth over the side so they wouldn’t see any ….well anything, coming from a witch.

Alistair pointed at it and said “You’re cheating. That’s not a tent. That’s a…whatever that is, but that’s not a tent.”

“And yet I have not been scolded like a naughty child, am I?”

“Yes. Because you’re cheating. You must have done something to her like…witchy things.”

Tabris suddenly cried out. “Oh Maker! She’s coming around again! Everyone, look sharp.”

* * *

Elissa offered to accompany Mahariel to hunt, saying she had experience. Ten minutes later, they were back, with Mahariel looking dangerous.

“You’re…..back” Thorin said, puzzled. They were empty-handed.

“I will be returning to the woods after I leave this stupid shemlen to you,” Mahariel hissed as she looked at Elissa, who is near tears.

“You’re very mean. Are all Dalish like you?”

Thorin held up his hand to stop them from bickering. “Alright, what happened?”

Elissa beat Mahariel to it. “Well, when we left, I said “I wish we have a horse.”

“-What use would a horse be in the woods?” Mahariel scoffed.

“I started to tell her that, back at the estate, we shoot on the back of a horse while the hounds chase the deer. The host would blow a great horn signalling that the hunt was on then she cut me off and said to stop talking-”

“She is scaring away our prey,” Mahariel explained.

“-So I did stop talking, though I was very upset because she was very rude, so I asked her what do Dalish do when they hunt? And she said-”

“Dalish do not talk or ask ridiculous questions while hunting.”

“-I answered that seems very dull. But I saw a bush and I know there’s always a pheasant in it and I said so to her. She told me it doesn’t, and I said to her that I know there are, because our dogs use to go in the underbush and flush them out. I said I wish we had a dog but I remembered that we had elves who had sticks to beat the bushes when you don’t have a dog. I suggested that to her and she started to be very abusive-”

“-I am no servant, I am Dalish. I will not carry sticks for shemlens like a fool!”

“- we quarreled and said I’d better go if all she does is be mean.”

“-so I leave this in your hands, or else I might be tempted to shoot her.”

“You see? She’s very mean. And I can defend myself you know.”

Mahariel only replied with a chilly glare and walked back towards the woods.

Thorin was silent for a while. He really doesn’t know much about hunting above ground so all he said was “So…”

“I was only trying to help.” Elissa set her bow and quiver on the ground and sat, her arms on her knees. “She’s so mean. She wouldn’t even tell me what I did wrong. I wish I was back at the castle. I wish my friends are here, or even the knights. They’re a bit slow, but they don’t say I’m a stupid shemlen who doesn’t know anything. What’s a shemlen anyway?” she sniffed. “I wish my dog was here,” she said then she started crying.

One of the things that make him clueless is the sight of pretty girls crying. Because dwarven women he knew would have given a good thrashing rather than cry. Fortunately, another dwarf knows what to do.

“Ahh, come here ye poor lass,” Brosca said as he embraced Elissa. She sobbed hard on his chest as he patted her back softly. “Let it all out. Let it all out.”

“I’ll…leave her to you then,” Thorin said. Brosca nodded that he got it under control and so he walked away.

When Elissa stopped crying, she lifted her head and sniffed. “I’m sorry. Your shirt’s ruined.” Brosca looked at his shirt said, “S’alright. It needs washin, anyway.” That earned a laugh from her.


	50. Chapter 50

“Ser Barker!”

A brown muddy figure was running towards them. Elissa picked up her skirts and ran towards it, where the dog bounded to his mistress, nearly knocking her over and enthusiastically licked her face.

“You named your dog Ser Barker?” Tabris asked when they caught up to her.  

“Of course. Look at him, he is as gallant and brave as any knight” she answered, after she stopped crying for joy. To prove the point, the dog broke off licking his mistress’ face and pranced, like a knight indeed. A muddy knight.

“That’s great, since we seem to do a lot of rescuing. Are you up to it, Ser Knight?” Alistair asked the dog.

The dog wagged his tail and barked.

“Oh great. We’re now talking to dogs. We’ve gone from retards to full lunatics.” Neria huffed as she spun away.

As the others chased after Neria, teasing her, Elissa clung to her dog in hope. If Ser Barker had escaped the sack of Highever, then how much more her father and mother, the famous “Soldier and Seawolf’”? Surely, like some many of the stories his father told her of their narrow escapes from Orlesian pirates and chevaliers, her parents must have survived since they were together. Together they were invincible and not even Howe’s men would have killed them. They are only hiding, waiting for a chance to bring justice to Howe like they did to the Orlesians. And they would expect their daughter to carry on and bear the name of Cousland with honor.

As she led her dog to camp, she vowed not to disappoint them.     

* * *

“I don’t understand why Morrigan taught you shapeshifting and not me. She doesn’t even like you,” Neria pouted at Amadeus one night at camp.

He’s not sure either. Oddly enough, it all started with a quarrel about which training was best. They had covered all the schools of magic until she mentioned her mother taught her shapeshifting.

“Oh, shapeshifting. Serves me right for asking a hedge witch. What’s next? Teleportation? Bezoars for poisonings? Trolls in the dungeons?” he scoffed.

 “My, aren’t you a little skeptic? Just your voice makes me picture a wizened, old man, shouting at children not to run across his yard.”  

 “That’s absurd, as absurd as your claims. Don't try to change the subject. According to the rules of magic, shapeshifting isn’t possible.”

She stood up and readied her staff. “If you must be so annoying, then there is only one thing to do.” She waved her staff and in her place stood a hawk. When she turned back into human form, all he had to say was “Parlor trick.”

“A trick is it? It seems you are one of those people who must know it with their own senses. Very well, I shall make you see in such a way you can never deny it.” And so she told him to observe one form. That was easy. And they’ve got a dog in camp. Mabaris are as smart as humans, only they couldn’t talk. And then he became well, a dog. Mother knows best. He later said so to Morrigan, which made her smug for days.

__Perhaps because she couldn’t gloat as much over Neria, which she had when she was teaching him._ _

Tabris and Brosca came near the two as they were talking. “Oh, Morrigan can shapeshift? Can you ask her to turn into a cow?” asked the elf when Neria complained to him about the unfair teaching.  

“And why would she do that?” Neria asked, puzzled.

“No idea. It’s just so I can call her Moorigan.”

“Ye shoulda tell Alistair that. Stone know he ain’t been winnin against her,” Brosca suggested.

“Oooh you’re bloody brilliant! I could tell Alistair so he could tell Morrigan. I could avoid getting gored while still getting a laugh.”

“Yer evil.”


	51. Chapter 51

Near the campfire, the others were whispering among themselves of the Qunari’s trustworthiness.

“Are you sure we can really trust him?” Elissa said to Tabris, Neria, and Brosca. Amadeus was near the fire and them, not being used to camp life and he found the outside was much colder than he expected.

“Boss says he comes, then he comes,” Brosca shrugged.

“Yeah but aren’t you worried he might crush our heads while we’re asleep. I mean look at him. He could probably do it with one hand,” Tabris said, making a demonstration with his hand, as all of them looked at the giant talking with Thorin.

“Serves ye right for sleepin so soundly.”

“He’s a spy! We can’t let him travel with us as we go all over Ferelden,” Elissa protested.

“Ye really sure he’s spyin as ye say he is?”

“No, but what would a Qunari do here, other than to spy?”

“You heard him. He was sent to know about the Blight.”

“Yes he said that. But we can’t know for sure if that’s what he really was doing. What if-”

“Spirits in the Fade! You all are not going to stop babbling, are you?” Amadeus asked as he snapped his book shut. “If you’re so curious, there’s one way to find out.” He stood up, brushed himself, and before anyone of them could stop him, he walked to the Qunari. He planted himself squarely in front of the giant, surprising Sten and Thorin, and asked “Are you a spy?”

“Maker, Amadeus! You can’t just go up to someone and ask if they're a spy,” Tabris whispered, as the others look at the two, alarmed.

“Shut up. I know what I’m doing,” said the mage to him, before turning back to the Qunari. Sten replied that that was not his job. He was sent by the Arishok to investigate the Blight.

“Nothing more? And if the Arishok asks you to describe the mountains, the towns, the cities here?”

Sten replied that he would have to answer it as well, if he asks.

Amadeus turned to them and said “See? Spy.”

* * *

Mahariel was able to hunt a pair of rabbits. Game wasn’t so easy to be found that day and it took her half-a day to even get it. She gave the meat to Alistair, who was cook of the day, along with some vegetables she found from abandoned farms of people who had fled.Then she went to preserve the skins to sell later. When the food was ready, the others had gone ahead to sup while Mahariel was still busy washing off the blood from her hands and knives.

The others expected dinner to be a hearty stew, which after all their troubles, would hopefully remind them of the good old days. Instead, the food was a congealed, grey mess that stuck like mud on their bowls, smelling like anguish and tasting like despair. Except the cook, only the dwarves devoured their portions with gusto. Each had eaten worse, and while the food tastes funny, they thought this was just what surface food is like. That does not stop them from wishing it was nug roast instead, though.

The lady took a dainty bite every now and then, but spent more time talking than eating. At her side, the dog took a sniff at his bowl and started to whine, but his mistress shot him a look and he gobbled his portion in great gulps. Meanwhile, the elf-mage glared at her bowl, probably trying to turn it delicious by sheer willpower. It was a hopeless case. Everyone else tried to force that god-awful mess down their throats. The witch was nowhere to be found.  

The sister, however, had other ideas. She took a bite then immediately resisted the urge to make a face. She asked the cook, her tone light. “Alistair, is this rabbit? It had a certain... texture I don't normally associate with rabbit.”

Alistair stopped eating to answer. “They didn't make rabbit stew for you in Lothering?”

“We ate simply there. Whole grains, made into biscuits or bread, and vegetables from the garden, cooked lightly. No heavy stews.”

“Ah, so the last stew you had was probably cooked Orlesian style. Food shouldn't be frilly and pretentious like that. Now here in Ferelden, we do things right. We take our ingredients, throw them into the largest pot we can find, and cook them for as long as possible until everything is a uniform grey color. As soon as it looks completely bland and unappetizing, that's when I know it's done.”

The two dwarves looked up at him with horror then at each other. Tabris looks like he’s unsure whether to cry or laugh at Alistair’s butchery of Fereldan cooking. Elissa knew it to be not all true but was too polite to say otherwise. Or busy, throwing small portions out of her bowl, while Alistair is still distracted.

Then Mahariel finished her task and walked up to the group. When she was served her bowl, she took one look at it and hissed “What is this?”

“Your dinner? You know, to eat?” Alistair answered.

“I know what dinner is, shemlen. I am asking, What. Is. This?” she said as she shook her bowl right under his nose.

Alistair said, with growing trepidation, “Food?”

She flung the bowl away. “No. It’s sludge. You are asking me to eat sludge.” She glared at him. “Next time, I will not give my hunts to you just so you can make a mockery of cooking it.” She spun around and walked to her tent.  

Alistair reeled, obviously hurt.

“Donna mind her, lad. Some live on nothin but spite.”

“Scenes like that is very common in Orlais, even if the food is really good. Like “Oh, the asparagus was undercooked. Behead the chef!” Lelianna said helpfully.

“Everyday, I’m thankful to be Fereldan,” Tabris commented, his eyes watering.

Elissa went to Alistair’s side. “Don’t look so sad. We like your cooking well enough. Look.” She waved to their bowls. Fortunately, most have clean bowls, though Neria’s bowl is smoking. Amadeus was halfway to his and was about to push it away when Tabris nudged him. He looked up, saw Alistair’s face and forced himself to finish it.

Alistair was cheered by the scene. “Oh, then if you like it, there’s some more on the pot.”


	52. Chapter 52

Her hair does shine the color of a thousand roses, her eyes cerulean orbs in a face of milk. Her lips petals of softest pink; her presence memories of fresh spring mornings, lilies, and fragrant wine. Her motions the light sweet flow of a summer breeze; her voice the tinkling keys of the piano. With the light of the fire falling softly on her, she might have been a goddess come to earth.

But it seems this vision was not meant to last, as shadows swam over and there appeared a head of pure monstrosity with the name of Brosca, which said "Wipe that stupid grin off ya face."

Tabris snapped back to reality and saw Brosca smirking at him. "Huh?"

"If ye gonna stare at a pretty girl, do it withna droolin."

He frantically wiped the sides of his mouth. "I'm not drooling."

"Ye ain't. But ye gotta check."

"You evil dwarf."

Brosca continued smirking, then leaned closer. "So ye like her?"

"I'm not going to answer that!"

"Ye can tell me."

"Alright. No teasing."

"Olright, you soddin elf."

"Then yes, I like her. Very much."

"Then whaddya doin?"

"What? What should I be doing?"

"Go get her."

"I can't just go to her. It's complicated. We're not..the same you know. Human. Her. Elf. Me. It's not that easy." He explained that human-elf relations are frowned upon here in the surface.

"Bah! Sod the rules. If ye like a girl, ye do yer best gettin her."

"Alright, then. Since you're so smart and all, what should I do?"

"Ye sidle up to her, real slow."

"Okay."

"Then you say somethin liek nothin like..I dunno..nugs"

"Okay. Anything but nugs."

"Then say something smart to make her feel all hot and shit ."

"Like what?"

"Like, uh, Girl, ye ain't gonna look no more, cos I've got the best sauce fer yer smokin hot rump."

The sound of the crackling fire became very apparent.

"Are you trying to help me or get me stabbed in the face?"

"Ye gotta live a little."

"No thanks. The darkspawn's doing that for me already." He put his arms over his knees. "No wonder you're single," he muttered.

It seems however that they didn't need to know the best way to approach her, because she approached them.

"Hello," Lelianna said at their back. Tabris stood up straight, then cursed himself as his blood was still at his legs and he was now feeling light-headed.

"Are you alright?" she asked him.

"Yeah. Yeah," he said, in a squeaky voice.

Brosca bumped him on the leg. He turned around and shot him a look. Brosca rolled his eyes and stood up. "Right. Ye two natter on. Imma look for the runt. She mighta been roastin the laddie a good while now." Ignoring Tabris' silent pleading, he walked away.

There's nothing to do but face the music.

"Did I do something wrong?" Lelianna asked with concern as they watched Brosca walk away.

"Oh no. You? You do nothing wrong."

"That's kind of you."

"I-uh, huh. Sure, I mean-Anyway, what do you want to talk to me about?"

"Elissa mentioned that you go to the Chantry at Denerim?"

"Oh, yeah."

She wanted to ask about an acquaintance of hers that got sent to the Chantry there. He replied that yes, he know her and told her news of the sister. When it ran out, they fell silent. Tabris didn't want her to go away from him just yet so he asked "What was it like in the cloister?"

"Quiet. It was a life suited for contemplation. In the cloister, away from the fuss and flurry of the cities, I found peace. In that stillness, I could hear the Maker."

"That sounds nice."

She smiled, sadly. "But it was not perfect. Some of my Chantry fellows were condescending. That is the nature of religious folks, I suppose."

"How so?"

"When I talked about my beliefs-that the Maker reveals himself in the beauty of His world, they treated me with disdain. They want to believe He is gone, so that when He turns His gaze on them, it means they are special, chosen. He cannot possibly have love for all, the sick and weary, the beggars and fools."

He couldn't reconcile the idea of the sisters who had taught him to read and write, who gave shirts to poor people and taught about love and forgiveness to her version of them being selfish and conniving, so he just said "I like your ideas."

"Thank you. Maybe I'm wrong, but it is the Maker's place to decide if I am worthy, not men. Not the Chantry."

He thought there was a truth in it, but it was also stepping close to blasphemy.

"You are very understanding, for an elf. It's a surprise for me."

"Surely, you have met elves like me?"

"I have met very few elves and those I have met were pledged to the service of Orlesian nobles."

"Like…slaves?"

"They are serfs. There is no slavery in Orlais."

"That still sound like slavery to me," he said, frowning.

"Elven servants are well compensated for their services. Some of them live richer lives than humans. A well-trained servant is highly valued in Orlais. They are nimble and dexterous and many people find them pleasing to look at."

Tabris winced. He did wish people to call him attractive, but not this way.

"I didn't mean it that way. My words were clumsily chosen. I did not mean to offend. I am sorry," Lelianna said.

"You were only telling me what you see in Orlais." They fell silent for a moment, Lelianna embarassed for her slip and Tabris saddened because she might not see him as her equal. "Maybe I'm not making a very good case here, because you know, my kind do get jobs as servants usually, but I swear, we're more than that," he said sincerely, forgetting about getting her to like him for a moment.

She seemed to think hard about what he said. "It is strange, how long-held beliefs just seem natural and….. Right, there is no other way to feel. Thank you. You have given me a lot to think about."

He smiled. It seems he has a chance after all.


	53. Chapter 53

* * *

Elissa was helping Tabris to prepare their supper, chopping vegetables and sometimes stirring the pot. She is quite chatty but strangely not around him. And he noticed that.

"Are you avoiding me, Elissa?" he asked, casually, while he stirred the pot.

"No, of course," she said, her reply tellingly stiff. Tabris paused stirring to look at her, an amused smile on his face. "Alright, tell. You're avoiding me and I don't know what I did wrong."

"I'm not avoiding you."

"Come on, Elissa, we'll be together for maybe…months? We can't keep being silent with each other for that long."

"I'm not avoiding you! I just don't know what to do around…bad people."

" 'Bad people'? Really?"

"Well I've nevet met one before who killed someone just for showing up uninvited to their wedding!" She dropped the knife and was about to walk away, when he called her back, laughing.

"I'm sorry for making fun of you. But I swear, that guy deserved it. Now, if you just hear me out."

She turned back to him and looked at him suspiciously.

"If you're worried I'm going to attack you, you can get the knife away from me and I'll just stir the pot here," he suggested.

She didn't move so he was about to start talking when the others showed up.

"Chow time?" Brosca asked, looking in the pot.

"Not yet, you gluttons. Go away, you'll spoil it," Tabris replied, swatting him away with the ladle.

"I think I heard you're going to tell a story," Alistair said, also peeking in the pot.

"Well, the story of how I end up here." He shooed them away from his masterpiece.

"That should be interesting. Alright, let's hear it," Alistair said and they seated themselves near the elf. Tabris told them about how Vaughan harassed the elves before the wedding until his cousin bottled him into unconciousness. The next day, he showed up with an armored party and kidnapped people, taking them to the palace. "He took them away. Unwillingly."

Elissa was shocked that a nobleman would act so cruel and petty. "What did the city guards do? Even if he was a noble, they have a duty to set them free and imprison the arl's son to be punished by the king."

He looked sadly at her. "They didn't do anything. They only do their jobs when it's a crime against humans. They didn't care about elves."

"That's….that's not right! They should have rescued them because those elves are citizens too, weren't they?"

He sighed. "Someone should have told them that." He continued that he and a cousin broke in the estate and rescued the kidnapped party. They had to kill Vaughan and his thugs to set them free however, as the humans were unwilling to let them he was finished, Elissa was no longer looking hostile at him. "I'm happy that you got your kin back."

"So you understand then why I had to kill Vaughan?"

"Yes I suppose. It was bad of him to kidnap people and not let them go." She frowned. "And the guards are just as bad too. If the king-well, he's dead now, but the Queen would want to know about this. I swear if the Blight is over, I'll make sure she'll know about this."

He didn't think too much of human promises but thanked her nonetheless.

"So how did you end up here? I assume killing a nobleman's son carries a death sentence?" Amadeus asked.

"Yeah. I was just about to be hanged, actually, when Duncan showed up. You should have seen the face of my executioner when Duncan conscripted me in front of everyone. He was so worked up in wringing my neck, when with a few words, off I go and he was left with his mouth hanging open." He didn't add that he waved them goodbye amid the crowds' jeers until Duncan said not to flaunt his new status.

Brosca laughed. "Aye I know what yer talkin about. Nearly had the same thing happen to me."

"What, you too? Did you kill a noble too?"

"No. I pretend I was some noble." He told them that he impersonated a noble dwarf so he could win a tournament. However, he was unmasked early and he was dragged off to the prisons as that kind of stunt is punishable by death. He did not tell them about the carta and instead proceeded to the point where he was about to fight the guards. "And then this human showed up. Told them I could do good fightin darkspawn. The guards canna do nothin but see me go, lookin like fools."

They then asked Amadeus how he was conscripted. He told them only details about his and Neria's conscription, saying that they were implicated in someone's crime and their fate would have been worse than death, had Duncan not showed up and conscripted them.

Elissa frowned and could not reconcile the idea of Duncan who saves people from the Duncan who took her away from her family.

"So how did you get conscripted, Elissa?" Tabris asked her.

She was silent for a moment, but she told them about Arl Howe betraying her family, attacking them when most of the troops had gone ahead with her older brother, killing their way to the teyrn. It happened that Duncan was present that day and conscripted her as payment for taking her away by her father's request. She felt her voice tremble as she told them her story, but when she finished, she was dry-eyed in her anger at the Warden Commander. She did not show it however, as Alistair was present and likely would not be pleased to hear his mentor being talked badly.

"That's so…" Tabris was at lost for words, surprised that bad things also happen to nobles as well as to peasants. "So what happened to your parents? Did they escape?"

She was silent for a moment, not sure what to say. "I don't know where they are. They must have escaped. Howe's men would never have killed them."

"Maker. Elissa, I'm so sorry. Now I understand why you talked of Duncan that way. I promise to help find your brother and if there's anything else I can help with, you can tell me," Tabris consoled her.

"Aye, count me in."

"Me too, I suppose," Alistair joined in with less warmth, when he remembered what she said before but too kind to be spiteful.

Amadeus did not feel the same way as them but expressed the same as a matter of courtesy. It worked as Elissa did not notice the difference.

"Thank you." she smiled, encouraged by their support. "Now we just had to survive, haven't we?"


	54. Chapter 54

After supper, Alistair found himself near Thorin, who was mending a gauntlet. He thought they'll spend the time in comfortable silence, when the dwarf suddenly asked him how he is.

"Well, I've just had a delicious supper and a warm bed waiting for me. But, the Blight's still here so we've got things going for us, which is pretty…yeah."

"I meant, how are you taking things with Duncan?"

"Oh." His face fell. "You don't have to do that. I know you didn't know Duncan as long as I did."

"I did know him long."

Alistair looked at him, his lips shaped  _How_  but checked when he remembered he was talking to a dwarf. "Deep Roads. Orzammar. Right, sorry. Of course you know him. Grey Wardens pass a lot through Orzammar."

"You haven't been to Orzammar yet or you would have known."

"That too. I'm just curious. How do you know each other?"

"Sometimes, we met and fought together in the Deep Roads, me with my troops and him with his wardens. Sometimes we met at parties by my fa-by King Endrin for the Wardens. He was a great man, the bravest I've ever known."

"Yes. He is. A great man." Alister was staring at the fire, deep in thought before he began "I should have handled it better. Duncan warned me at the very beginning that this should happen. One of us could die in battle. I shouldn't have lost it, not when so much is riding on us with the Blight and everything-I'm sorry."

"Don't apologize. I understand. Even if you thought you were prepared to lose your comrades, you'd still find it hard to accept when it comes."

Alistair was comforted with his words so he said "I'd like to have a proper funeral for him. Maybe once this is over, if we're still alive. I don't think he has family to speak of."

"He had. The wardens. And you," he added, having observed Alistair see Duncan as a father figure.

"I suppose he did. It probably sounds stupid, but part of me wishes I was with him in the battle. I feel I abandoned him."

"You were following orders. His orders. You did not abandon him."

"I suppose you're right. Well, since if I didn't, I'd be dead then, right? It's not like that would make him happier."

Thorin thought the second-guessing is talked about enough so he asked "Where do you want the memorial placed?"

"I think he came from Highever. Or so he said. Maybe I'll go there sometime, see about putting something in his honor, I don't know."

"I would want to go too. He deserves to be remembered, as all the other wardens who died with him. Too many good men died that day. I hope we won't lose even more."


	55. Chapter 55

Tabris begged Elissa to spar with him. A few minutes of fighting show that they were evenly matched until he made a mistake. Elissa did not waste that opportunity and pressed him hard, until he was down from one dagger. Then Elissa did something with hers, and with a flick of the wrist, would've have disarmed him had he not threw up a handful of dust in her face.

She was coughing as Tabris laughed. "That was dirty!" she said to him.

"Of course it was. It was dirt. What do you expect it to be?" he said, grinning.

"Not that. I'm talking about what you did!"

"Seems you still have something to learn, then" He picked up his dagger from the ground, then he turned to her. "Again?"

She wiped her face with the sleeve of her tunic and said, "Again"

Three minutes later, she swung a kick that went right between his legs. That brought a collective groan of pain from every man watching.

"Seems like I'm not the only one who should still be learning", she said to the elf lying on the ground, his hands on where her foot had hit.

"Yeah, but does learning have to be so painful?" he said, looking up at her , his eyes still watering.

After he was done rolling on the ground, she helped him to her feet. "You know, you could win against me."

"Win? In rolling, sure."

She laughed. "I meant the fighting. You're faster than me." She pointed out he made too many unnecessary movements and described new techniques.

After the lesson, he thanked her."I am your willing pupil. Anything else I should know about?"

"Well, it helps to make a couple of winks while battling. That always work with me."

He imagined fighting the guards back at the alienage, slashing and hacking when at the middle of it, he winked at them. "Haha. I doubt that's as effective with me. A wink would make them more mad at me."

"That was the idea."


	56. Chapter 56

The night before they moved out, Mahariel came marching to Thorin's tent.

"Durgen'len, are you dressed?"she asked through the tent flap.

Thorin buried his head on his pack and groaned. What is it now? Can anyone take care of themselves for even five sodding minutes? But he said "Yes, what is it?" as he emerged from the tent and found Mahariel standing before him, furious as a hellcat.

"May we speak? Alone."

He nodded at a spot far away from the campfire. When the others were out of earshot, she said "After we have upholded the treaties with the Dalish, I will stay with my people."

And there it is. First desertion of the week.

"And what made you decide that?" He can't afford to lose Mahariel. If not for her hunting and trapping skills, they would have starved. She had also the most sense in the group, setting watch for danger, and tracking water for them to fill their waterskins, making said waterskins from animals she hunted, getting wood for their campfire, foraging herbs for poultices and so on. She had all that done, without him telling her. He didn't have to worry half of the time, because she was there.

"It was bad enough that I must endure the company of shemlens. The stupid woman, the incompetent man, and now another ignorant woman. That sister." she said with a hiss. "She had asked me about my people, about our traditions then told me…told me that she knew my people only as a plaything and a curiosity to humans.  _Indentured servants_ , she calls it. She is making a mockery of me and my people, thinking of my kind only as they are of use to humans," she spat.

"I don't think just because a few humans doesn't respect your people mean you should leave. You can correct them. You should be better than this. You shouldn't let them bother you, because we had a Blight to stop."

"I have not forgotten my duty. But I will not do it beside humans. I will not fight with them, sup with them, shed blood for them, knowing that those shemlens think of me as beneath them. They are our enemy and always will be. I shall fight with my own kind."

Thorin looked at the fuming elf, inwardly cursing that tactlessness is costing them a fighter. "Is there no other way?"

"There is no other way, unless I kill them three and leave their corpses to the wolves."

He isn't ready for the rampant slaughter yet.

"Or we could talk to them and say that their behavior won't be tolerated. They're not that bad. We can change the way they think."

"No. Give me your word this night, or I will be gone."

Thorin took a deep breath. Mahariel isn't the type who can be moved with threats, bribery or pleading. She is bound by her cause, and just like their first journey to the Wilds, she will stick with it, even if it kills her. He just wished it was their cause. "Alright, you can go. After you upholded the treaties. Make sure they keep their word."

"The Dalish always keep their word."

"Of course. Break it to your companions after you're done with the treaties."

She nodded. "Ma serannas."

Thorin sighed, as he watched her walk to her tent. He's sure, after she is gone, that the others will be demanding the same. He spent too much time on surviving, that he never really knew much about his own people. If he did, he would have taken care of this before it reached this point.

It looks like he had plenty of work to do.


	57. Chapter 57

After a few minutes of setting out, they found a darkspawn group attacking a pair of dwarves. Of course, they just had to fight. When they finished the last of the darkspawn, they turned to the people they rescued.

"Thank you," said the older dwarf, helping his boy up but then he looked at Thorin and goggled.

Thorin folded his arms. "Bodahn. Stone-met."

"Oh my Lord-"

"I'm not a lord anymore, since we're both on the surface," he said, forestalling Bodahn from telling his secret.

"You're a lord?," Elissa asked.

Thorin turned to her "I used to lead the dwarven troops in the Deep Roads. Bodahn here used to follow us as we clear the roads, picking up any trinkets dropped by darkspawn."

To Bodahn, he said. "I'm surprised you didn't turn up a ghoul, for all the tainted goods you've handled."

"I have got a way to make those tainted goods clean again."

"And which is?"

"A trade secret."

"Enchantment!" said his son, clapping his hands.

"So, why are you on the surface?" Thorin asked.

Bodahn told them about the gloves and the noble and how he fled arrest with his boy. They have been traveling to nowhere in particular when they were attacked.

"So, my lord Grey Warden, may I ask to follow you?"

He smiled. "Always following your interest. It'll be dangerous," he warned.

Bodahn said "It is always dangerous following you, my lord. But I had not been exiled to the surface because of it."

"Very well. Here's the deal. You are welcome to any darkspawn we kill, as long as in exchange you stock up on food and drink."

Tabris cut in. "Just so you know, we get first dibs on the darkspawn."

The company moved with the carts in tow. Now that food and drink is taken care of, he had less to worry about. Because at the rate they were going, they were more likely be killed by starvation rather than darkspawn.

At the crossroads, he looked over to his companions. "Stay safe. Don't take unnecessary risks. And whatever you do, don't attract too much attention." He wasn't sure if the days they spent preparing them and drilling the others about the roads in Ferelden is enough to send them to their destinations, but he has no choice but to trust them.

They nodded back at him and then they went their separate ways.


	58. Chapter 58

"Are you sure you don't want to lead?" Amadeus asked.

They were over a crest of a hill overlooking Kinloch Hold. The tower rose from water, a dark unmoving shape cutting through the glittering waters of the lake and to the great blue sky above. Against that beautiful backdrop of setting sun, it looked downright sinister.

Thorin shrugged. "This is your area. You lead. I could use the break."

"Is that so? Am I to think that you're not just going to be sort of evaluating me too?"

"I could play the part of the whiny soldier if you like."

"Please don't." He continued, after a pause, "I rather expected you to go with Alistair, treating with the nobles."

"You're wrong. I don't prefer being with nobles to any other. And you know, one way to toughen up is to be given a firm boot in the ass."

"Oh, so you are booting Alistair out?"

"I hope it works."

They were at the docks where a boat will take them to the tower. However, the templar guarding it was not letting them pass by the order of the Knight Commander. They had reasoned with him, threatened him, offered him a bribe and finally revealed that they are Grey Wardens. None of them worked. Finally, Sten had enough.

"Pasheera. Here, take this," the giant said as he gave a bag to the templar. The templar opened it and cried "Cookies!" He munched happily as he led them to the boat, the Wardens staring open-mouthed at the Qunari.

"Where'd you get those?" Thorin asked the giant.

"There was a child-a fat slovenly thing-in the last village we passed. I relieved him of these confections. He didn't need more," Sten said in a casual tone.

Thorin stared at him open-mouthed for a moment, then said "We're stealing from children now?"

"We've fallen on desperate times, Thorin," Amadeus said dramatically. "Stop complaining."

Thorin said no more about it and directed his attention to the templar. "You know, I starting to doubt the skills of these Templars, if they would let us pass just like that."

"Shh. Don't give them any ideas," Amadeus answered. A better question was, where were all these type of Templars when he was in the tower?

As they went in the boat, Thorin whispered to Amadeus "Pay back the cookies to Sten."

"What? Where would I get that? Is there another fat child to steal cookies from?" Amadeus looked at him a while longer then asked "Do you really not want to lead right now?"

"No."

The boat lurched on and he found out he can't really lead anytime soon.

"Don't lean too far the side Thorin! We'll sink!"

"Oh dear. Do you have any spells that might help?" Lelianna said to the mage as she sat across he retching dwarf.

"It's too crowded. I can't get my staff. He'll just have to bear it a little longer," the mage replied from somewhere behind Sten's knee.

"Are you alright?" she said to the poor dwarf. Thorin waved her off.

"Fine, I'm fine. Let me just get used to the idea that water is not only for washing," he said, before he heaved again.


	59. Chapter 59

"What's that?"

"Tree"

"And that?"

"Tree"

"That?"

"Also tree"

"That one?"

"Tree-no, Andraste, it's an elf!"

It's true. A group of armor-clad elves had appeared out of nowhere, all in green, bows at the ready. Unlike the trio, Mahariel isn't surprised by the sudden apparition and went forward to speak with the leader.

"Andaran atishan, my friend. You have come a long way. I give you welcome of our clan," the elf said. Then she noticed Mahariel's companions. "These are curios companions you have. Two flat-ears and a durgen'len. May I ask the purpose of your visit?

"I have come on behalf of the Grey Wardens, sister," Mahariel replied as Tabris muttered "Knife ears. Flat ears. Even our own kind looks down on us."

"The Grey Wardens? You…have joined their ranks. How unusual. Excuse my surprise. I will take you to our Keeper right away," she said and nodded at them to follow her.

The Dalish encampment was made up of many tents called aravels. There were elves here and there and the three looked around in wonder. Neria was already tinkering with some strange bottles, an elf looking at her disapprovingly, while Tabris looked around the makeshift tents, the corral which stinks of halla and the general poverty of the people. He muttered "Huh. So this is where the Dalish live in. For someone so proud," he glanced at Mahariel "you would've thought they live in castles."

They were met by an elf-mage, who they intuited was the leader. "Hmm I see we have guests. And one of our own, no less. I am Zathrian, keeper and hahren of this clan. You are?" he asked Mahariel.

"I am Mahariel of the Sabrae Clan. These are my companions."

"If you came here with news of the Blight to the south, it is not needed. I had already sensed its corruption, and had we the ability to move, I would have led them north. I imagine you are here for the treaty signed centuries ago? Unfortunately, we cannot live up to that promise. This will require some explanation. Follow me."

He led them to the center of the camp and at once they saw they really can't get help from them. Elves lay in pallets, groaning, some being restrained, while their attendants apply poultices or clasped the hands of the ill, whispering words of comfort or hope.

"Are they sick?" Neria asked as she peered at an elf stretched on a bed.

"This is no ordinary sickness. This is an affliction caused by…werewolves."

"The what now?" Tabris asked.

Zathrian explained that a month ago, the clan arrived in the forest when they were ambushed. They drove the beasts back, but some of their warriors were afflicted with the illness and they have to kill them to prevent them from turning into werewolves. So, in short, they cannot help them in fighting the Blight. The wounded could only be healed through the source which is a great wolf, Witherfang that lives in the forest.

"We will find this Witherfang for you," Mahariel said as Tabris whispered "What? Just like that? No talking about it, even?"

Zathrian warned them that there are other beings than werewolves in the forest because it was the site of a bloody battle, which thinned the Veil and allowing possession of living and dead. Then he directed them to the storyteller if they wished to know more.

While they're walking towards the storyteller, Tabris spoke. "I'm all for saving the Dalish, but you can't seriously be thinking that we go into that creepy forest. Have you heard him? There's ghosts and abominations on top of werewolves."

"Are you afraid of ghosts?" Neria asked him.

"I'm not afraid of ghosts. I'm not afraid of ghosts. I'm just thinking we shouldn't be going into this recklessly."

"Don't worry about the abominations. Sure they grow tall and big and grow tentacles and have sharp teeth and mess with your mind but they still die, you know," Neria said helpfully.

"Thanks, Neria. That's comforting," he replied, not at all comforted. Neria beamed and continued walking.

"There are always such things in forests like this. I expect as much." Mahariel said matter of factly.

"Well I don't." When his companions continued walking, he said "Don't any of you have some sort of self-preservation? Am I the only one here who thinks this is a bad idea?"

"Aye. So quit yer bitchin and let's get movin."


	60. Chapter 60

"Look, could we talk for a moment?"

They were at the bridge before the village of Redcliffe when Alistair asked her. Elissa looked back to where he has fallen behind. "What is it?"

Alistair came near to her, his eyes glancing at the side. "I…need to tell you something I should probably have told you earlier."

Elissa waited, her breath held.

Alistair took  deep breath and started talking. "I've told you and the others before how Arl Eamon raised me, right. That my mother was a serving girl at the castle and he took me in? The reason he did that is because..well my father was King Maric."

Elissa covered her mouth with her hands, shocked. "Oh, my.."

"Which made Cailan my half-brother I suppose."

"I'm so sorry my lord" she said, as she curtseyed. He is a bastard, but he is royal. And with Cailan dead, it also that means that he is the heir to the throne.

"No! Don't do that. I never wanted that.." Alistair helped her up. "I would have told all of you before but, it never really meant anything to me. I was a possible threat to Cailan's rule and so they've kept me secret. I never talked it out with anyone. Everyone who knew resented me or coddled me, or do that-" he gestured about Elissa's reaction-"Even Duncan kept me out of the fighting because of it. I didn't want you and the others to know. I'm sorry."

"Does Loghain know about this?"

"Why wouldn't he? He was King Maric's best friend. I don't know what it means though.."

Elissa gave a long look at him. So maybe that's why Loghain wanted the Wardens dead so badly. Kill the heir and the spare. Not that he should know. He'll only blame himself.

"So you're King Cailan's heir then?"

Alistair looked aghast. "Let's hope not. I'm the son of a commoner and a Grey Warden to boot. It was clear to me very early on that there was no room for me raising any rebellions or such nonsense. And that's fine by me. Now if there is an heir to be found, it's Arl Eamon himself. He's not royal blood but he is Cailan's uncle. And more importantly, very popular with the people. Though if he's really sick as we heard…no I don't want to think about that. I really don't. Now can we move on and I'll just pretend you still think I'm some nobody who was too lucky to die with the grey wardens."

"Don't say that. That's not true."

"It is. I am. A nobody." He took a deep breath, then said brightly as he can under the situation "Now that the awkward part is over, I suggest we move on."

"Yes, do. Some of us do get tired of the wallowing," said the witch, bored with everything.

"Oh, are you there? I guess it's too much to wish that you've fallen on a ditch somewhere."

"Certainly. Because unlike you, I need no one to hold my hand."

Their bickering was interrupted by the dog's barking.

A man was running from the bridge and skidded in front of them. "I thought I saw travelers down the road though I scarcely believe it. Have you come to help us?" he asked, breathless and pale.

"We have heard that the Arl is ill. We were hoping to talk to his brother, Bann Teagan," Alistair replied.

"So you..don't know? Has anybody out there heard?" he called out to the sky, wringing his hands.

"Please calm down and speak clearly." Elissa said, soothingly, as the man became more agitated every second.

"We're under attack. Monsters come out of the castle every night and attack us until dawn. Everyone's been fighting and dying. We have no army to defend us. And no arl and no king to send help. So many dead and those left are terrified they're next."

"Hold on. What is this evil that is attacking you?" Alistair asked.

"I don't rightly know. I'm sorry. Nobody does."

"Oh, how dreadful. Calm down. Of course we'll help," Elissa reassured him.

"Then I should take you to Bann Teagan. He's all that's holding us together. He'll want to see you. He's just over there in the chantry," the man said and turned to go. Elissa looked back at the others and saw the witch was being stubborn.

"Must we?" asked Morrigan, her arms folded.

"Well, we can't stand by and let them suffer. Besides, we were going to Bann Teagan anyway."

"Tis only right they suffer if they cannot help themselves without needing the assistance of strangers."

"Are you coming or not?"

Morrigan sighed."Lead the way, if doom be it."


	61. Chapter 61

They arrived at the tower, with a groggy dwarf in tow. As the others helped each other get off the boat and into the dock, Amadeus looked at the great doors with a not so fond expression. It was funny how he conspired all his life to get out of this place. Now's he's getting in voluntarily.

He vividly remembered the last scene that he was here and how much he hated everyone in it. But after a lot of thinking on the road, he almost forgave Irving. It was a miscalculation on his part, putting him on the spot like that, with raging templars all around them. Of course he'll save his skin. He might have persuaded the senior enchanter to fight for him if he just acted as a dutiful mage.  He noted to himself that he really need to control his temper if things didn't go his way. So with that in mind, he was ready to meet the first enchanter with no hard feelings.

Only it wasn't Irving who met them. It was Gregoire.

"Well, look who's back. A proper Grey Warden now, are we?" the templar commander sneered as they came in.

"Oh, Knight Commander, I just have to see you. My life just wouldn't be complete without you in it," Amadeus drawled.

"Amadeus…." Thorin warned him.

"Fine. Fine. So why is the door locked? Is it housekeeping day?" the mage said, nodding at the barred doors.

Gregoire snarled. "The tower is no longer under our control. Abominations and demons stalk the tower's halls. We were too complacent. First Jowan, now this," he gestured towards the door then turned back to him. "Don't think I've forgotten your role in Jowan's escape."

"I'm touched you remember me so fondly. But we are here to ask for the mages' help against the Blight. Where is the first enchanter?"

"I don't know. Inside. When the demons started appearing, hunting mages and templars alike, we realized we couldn't defeat them and we fled."

"Very smart."

"You will like it then, if I told you I called reinforcements and a Rite of Annulment from Denerim."

"The rite of what?" Thorin asked as Amadeus went still.

"The rite of annulment. Every mage on this tower will be killed, for everyone's safety. The tower is overun, everything must be destroyed."

"Surely, Knight Commander, some can still be saved. They cannot have all been turned by the demons," Lelianna said, trying to reason with him. Gregoire have been through a lot these past few days and he could not summon the patience to be kind. "You trust too much, Sister. Everyone in there would have turned into abominations. There is no one there to save. I repeat, everything must be destroyed."

"Not everything if we have a say about it," Amadeus said to him.

"You're a fool," Gregoire spat at him. "You'll be facing abominations and they are a force to be reckoned with."

"Isn't that the point of Harrowing? I am a harrowed mage and we go get our allies." He started moving towards the door.

"No! You can't go in there. You'll doom us all!" said Gregoire, his voice filled with rising panic. His templars moved to block their way in.

Amadeus looked at the templars then said, over his shoulder, to Gregoire "You forget, that if I can break in a secure vault, I can break in any door you put up."

"Ah, that arrogance hangs about you like a fell cloud, doesn't it? Fine. You need allies? I can promise you that. I'll pledge the templars to your cause. Just do not open that door."

Amadeus turned around to glare at him. "You think your paltry templars are worthy of being our allies, when you ran like dogs with tails between your legs at some demon? I'm sure they'll do gloriously facing darkspawn," he sneered.

He had enough of promises. He's holding a treaty for the mages, not templars. On another note, that was his mistake. He should've made Irving sign one back then so he wouldn't have to deal with all this shit.

Gregoire put up his hands. "Fine! You want to die? Then go. Be warned, the door will be barred after you enter. I will only believe that it is safe when the first enchanter stands before me."

As the door was being opened, Thorin asked Amadeus "So, this rite of annulment-"

"-will arrive as fast as you can travel from Denerim. It means, we need to find Irving, fast, before those fools cook us alive."


	62. Chapter 62

The Redcliffe group were inside the village chantry, walking past surviving villagers, heading towards the little dais where the bann stood. 

"Greetings friends. My name is Teagan, Bann of Rainesfere. Brother of the Arl," the man said graciously at them, when he saw they were neither undead or bandits.

"I remember you Bann Teagan. Though the last time we met, I was a lot younger and covered in mud," Alistair said, happy at meeting the arl's brother.

Bann Teagan blinked at him. "Covered in mud?Alistair? It is you isn't it?You're alive! This is wonderful news," he said, returning the affection. He remarked at how Alistair had grown so much he did not recognize him and praised him about growing into a worthy young man. Then he finally noticed Elissa. "And you are a Grey Warden as well?"

Alistair intorduced Elissa as she swept a curtsey to the bann. "Bann Teagan, this is Elissa Cousland, a fellow Grey Warden."

"Cousland? I remember now. You're Bryce's youngest aren't you?"

"Yes my lord. We met in a party in Denerim three years ago."

Bann Teagan checked as he remembered the pretty young girl Teyrn Bryce introduced as his daughter and now has grown into a pretty, young woman. Then he remembered she is now a pretty, young  _orphaned_  woman. "Ah, yes. I'm sorry about your family. Arl Howe will pay for what he did."

"Thank you, my lord. You are very kind."

"If we were in better circumstances I would have received you better."

"I don't mind. But we came for the arl. Is it true he's ill?"

"Yes. He is at the castle. But no one has heard from them, no guards patrol the walls and no one has responded to my shouts. The attacks started a few nights ago. Evil things…surged from the castle. We drove them back but many perished."

"What evil things are you talking about?" Alistair asked.

Bann Teagan explained about the nightly attacks by walking corpses. Then he asked them for help to defend the town tonight.

"This is a fool's errand. We have nothing to gain here and should be enforcing the treaty, as planned," Morrigan said, annoyed at Alistair not introducing her.

Elissa shook her head. "You don't understand. We have a duty to help this people. A liege-lord should always do his duty to protect his people. And now that the Arl cannot do it himself, that falls to us. We are Grey Wardens, and they are our people too." She tried to explain further the concept of noblesse oblige to the plebeian witch but was rebuffed.

"Have your nobles and your duties, but I will not be part of this," said Morrigan as she turned her heel and left.


	63. Chapter 63

In the Dalish camp, the storyteller bid them welcome to the fire. When they asked about the forest, he told them that it was once a place of their ancestors and that many battles were fought which tore the Veil and allowed spirits to come forth. One of it became Witherfang, which passed its curse of rage into men and created werewolves. These passed their curse to their offspring and when the clan arrived, had passed it to the warriors. They end up as raving beasts unless they are killed.

When he mentioned that the forest has a will of its own, Tabris completely lost it. "The forest..is alive? The forest is alive. Oh, what's next? The trees are alive?"

"Do not make the forest your enemy, if I were you," said the storyteller.

"I prefer I don't make an enemy of anyone or anything."

The storyteller continued on and on about how the Dalish were a superior race until the arrival of these pesky humans. It was not at all to the taste of most of them so they bade goodbye as respectfully as they could and looked around for supplies. The Dalish were cooperative enough, but they cannot easily conceal the wariness towards outsiders, even if Mahariel was with them. More than once, Tabris caught them sneaking looks at him and Neria, curiosity mixed with pity at the elves not of any clan. He was used being condescended to by humans, but he had not expected it from his own kind. He had a little pride left to be offended, seeing as they seem not to live better than they do at the Alienage. However, he shrugged it off for now and went about as cheerful as he can considering what they're facing.

* * *

The first enemies they encountered weren't possessed things, but darkspawn. As their luck would have it, it was led by an ogre.

"Why are we running?" said a bewildered Mahariel behind her companions.

"Are you mad? That's an ogre! I'm not flying again!" said Tabris as he looked back and saw the ogre chasing them.

Mahariel cursed something and turned around to face it, pulling a special arrow from her quiver. She shot the ogre's eye and the other, and cursed again when those just blinded the monster.

"What are you doing?" Tabris asked, stopping as he saw what Mahariel was Dalish elf was looking around and spotted a hill that will take her within head-level of the orge. She ran and climbed it, as the ogre swept its hands around trying to catch its enemy. At the top, she aimed her bow, cursing as she can't hit the target unless-

She jumped and as she did so, shot an arrow that went inside the ogre's ear. She rolled, and went back on her feet, as beast staggered, falling-

Her arrow was too short to pierce its brain. The ogre just tried beating at its ear, then roared, enraged. She remembered there was a cliff here somewhere and she gave a piercing whistle, catching the monster's attention. But before she could led it there, Tabris and Brosca charged and buried their weapons in its hide. It was followed later by a bolt from Neria.

The ogre swept its hands, trying to catch them, but they knew now to dodge and continued hacking at it. They hardly injured it, when Neria shot a cold spell and it froze. At the same moment, Tabris stabbed at it with the greatest of his strength, Brosca put all his weight on his swing and Mahariel shot her arrow-

-and the monster broke into pieces. They stared, surprised at the frozen chunks of ogre at their feet, but hardly had the time to think about it, when the horde the monster was leading caught up with them.

"Lead them there!" Tabris cried as he ran towards the bridge.

"You must have a good reason to lead it here," she hissed at him as she ran past and nocked her arrow at the approaching horde.

"Yeah, I have an idea. You have a trap?" he asked Mahariel. She nodded and he told her to drop it before them. He and Brosca were at the forefront and waited for their first darkspawn.

As the two held the line in front, the other darkspawn were huddled on the bridge, unable to pass, and were fodder for Neria's fireballs and Mahariel's arrows.

They thought they were done when wolves and blighted ones attacked them. Thank the Maker swimming isn't taught to everyone.

After they caught their breath, they continued on their way and came to a waterfall with three bridges. There their first werewolf appeared. "Hrrr...the watch-wolves have spoken truly, my brothers and sisters. Another of the Dalish come to put us in our place, come to make us pay for our attack," a brown colored mutt snarled, towering over the four of them as he stood on his hind-legs. He seems to be the leader of the ragged band.

"You are savage beasts. How came you to speak?" Mahariel said, her arrow aimed at the leader. The pack growled.

"We are beasts but we are no longer simple and mindless. You speak to Swiftrunner. I lead them. Turn back now and tell them that you failed. Tell them they will suffer the same curse we have suffered for so long. They will pay."

"You look as if you hate my kind greatly."

"That we do."

Tabris stepped forward. "Sorry to interrupt but now that you're talking, Ser Wolf, can we talk a bit?"

"The name is Swiftrunner!" he growled.

"Right, Swiftrunner. My bad. What exactly has the Dalish has done to you?"

"Ask Zathrian what he had done. Was it not him who sent you? Hrr. He wishes only for our destruction, never to talk."

"You sound like you and him were best buds. Friends"

"Friends!" That produced a lot of growling and howling."We are not. We have never met. If we have, he would not live the experience."

"So, why do you hate him so much, if you never met him?"

The werewolf sneered at them. "You know nothing, don't you? Nothing of us and even less of those you serve. Run away from here, if you can. Run to the Dalish and tell them they are doomed." He turned to his pack and ran.

When they were gone, Tabris made a running motion towards Mahariel.

"What are you doing?" she asked him.

"He said run to the Dalish. So I'm running to you. You're Dalish, aren't you?"

Mahariel glared. "This is not the time for jesting."

"Oh, so explain to me why is a werewolf very angry with the Dalish?"

"They are beasts."

"Yeah. So you kick the dog enough times, it bites. So, did you kick the dog?"

"I kick no dogs."

"Alright, I'll speak plain. What did your kind do to them? "

"I do not know."

"Well, it seems we need to ask Zathrian about that. We need to ask him about a lot of things, like sending us in a creepy forest filled with rabid wolves and no idea why they're mad at him."


	64. Chapter 64

"Stop staring at it, Thorin. That's a demon. She'll suck your blood and your soul out of your body," Amadeus said calmly as they stared at the being in one of the tower rooms. Thorin's jaw shut with a snap and pulled his eyes away from the desire demon's chest. "Alright. So what do you do with them?" he nodded at her.

"Not. Drooling."

Thorin muttered it was a great shame.

They hacked and stabbed the demon to pieces, along with the templars she dominated. One of them was a pain in the ass, his desire only to have a wife and children. Nevermind that it was demonic wife and children.

As they continued on Sten remarked about putting Amadeus in charge.

"This is the prison for your mages? Ours is not so grand," he observed, looking around at the bookshelves surrounding every corner, packed with books. Tapestries hung down from the ceiling, showing scenes of Andraste's life and the Exalted March against Tevinter. There were couches, chairs and tables, and the bedrooms' furnishings were simple, but neat and comfortable. Without mad Templars and demons running about, it looked pretty cosy.

"Why? What do you do with mages?" Thorin asked him, genuinely curious.

"We rip out their tongues and kept in pens," Sten answered curtly.

"Your treatment of mages is rather extreme."

"Somethings can come only in excess."

"You must have a great reason for that harsh treatment."

"Is this not enough?" He gestured to the hall, where bodies of the slain and corrupted flesh decorated the walls. "My kind are always under attack by mages in Tevinter in my lifetime. I have seen what magic does and what it can do."

"It's reasonable to fear them because of their power. However, that does not mean that they should be treated less than people."

"No, they are not people. They are beasts in the shape of men who performs tricks. I find it strange that you would wish to save more of them."

"We need them to stop the Blight."

"The templars offered help."

"True. Because of what happened here, there's more templars. However, their help would mean that we let people die for nothing and we cannot allow that."

"That is a fate in war."

"I don't think needless death counts as one."

"It is not needless if it is their death. Letting one to lead is."

"Temporarily. Among us three, he knows how this tower works."

"You only need to hear him if you need his knowledge but not follow him."

"True. But you and I both know there is no certainty in war. One can be slain by mischance as well as a weapon, no matter how much preparation and training you had. And a sure way to die is to assume invincibility. I might die before we even face the Archdemon, so I had to ensure that others know how to lead and handle responsibility and continue the mission."

"A sentiment I understand, but you chose the wrong person to trust. An unbound mage is like a wildfire. As prone to consume itself as it is to devour all that surrounds it."

"You have a point," he said, thinking of Neria, "but I would like to see for myself first before making any judgements."

"As you say."

They continued on, more of the same. Deranged templars, deranged mages, deranged abominations. Towers. They're always full of shit.

Then they encountered their first blood mages, who upon seeing them started casting at them. Idiots. They forgot mages are frightfully squishy. "Please, don't kill me," the last of them gasped.

"Why not? You tried to kill us without even a warning," Amadeus said, his staff still pointed at him.

"I know, I have no right to ask for mercy, but I didn't mean for this death and destruction. We were just trying to free ourselves." He talked about Uldred's deal with Loghain, saying if the Circle supported him, Loghain would free them. The bloodmage continued on and on about taking the first step, forcing a change no matter the cost and now that Uldred went mad, they were doomed to die in the hands of those who right their wrongs.

"You understand, don't you? You're a mage. Don't you remember what it was like living here? The templars always watching….always…..watching," he said, his pleading eyes turned to Amadeus.

"Regardless, you took your chance and you lost. That is all there is to it," Amadeus answered.

Amadeus stood looking at the mage, waiting, then he turned towards his companions. "Must I beat him with my staff?"

"Alright, alright. You can just say  _Kill him!_  No need for the sarcasm," Thorin said as he buried his ax on the bloodmage's skull. As they continued on, Amadeus remarked. "Quite sensible for Loghain to chose mages over a battalion of templars. Pity he didn't want to haggle."

"Haggle?Are you saying mages are being sold here?" Thorin asked, surprised.

"Not exactly. You see, if you want to have even one mage out of this tower, you will have to cozy up to the Reverend Mother in Denerim. You have to show your undying devotion to the Maker and donate an appropriate amount of tithe to various Chantrys before they will consider your request. Once you have one, you only need to provide food and lodging for the mage, for they do their service for the glory of the Maker. And the Chantry, of course."

"So one would need to ask permission from the Reverend Mother before hiring a mage?" Thorin said thoughtfully. "Why not pay the mage directly?"

"That would get you blacklisted. With money on their hands, mages would have the means to disappear and escape from their grasp. If you want someone to be completely dependent on you, remove their ability to fend for themselves."

Lelianna could not permit anymore the slander against her order. "The Chantry is not what you say they are. Mages are much more vulnerable to demonic possession, and without supervision, they are liable to bring harm to themselves and to others. The Chantry only govern how the mage can serve people, and it's not the way you describe it. The Reverend Mother would have to see that the person in need of a mage is good and not going to use their talents for an evil purpose."

"And still, the Chantry treat mages like chattel. They may say they were doing this for the good of all, but they don't. If they had, they would have given the chance for mages to govern themselves, not encourage dependency upon templars."

"The last time mages were given the chance to govern themselves, they made an empire out of slavery and blood magic and unleashed the Blight upon the world."

"Ah, it all comes back to Tevinter, does it? Tevinter is only vilified because it blatantly used magic and slave labor, not swords and treaties. But their style of creating and ruling an empire isn't too different, isn't it, as other nations are also copying them, though they call it by different names. As for the Blight, we only had the word of a woman who, if historical records suggest, sounds delusional."

" _Delusional_? Of all the-"

"Alright, that's enough!" Thorin intervened. "This is not the time to have philosophical debates with each other." He turned to Amadeus. "Focus on the mission. When we get out of here, you can continue arguing with her. Right now, you need to work with each other." Then he turned to Lelianna, who was seething with righteous anger at the mage. "You said your god told you to help us?"

"I did."

"Your god didn't tell you you will be working with people with different views from your own?"

"I…the vision was brief, I was not completely sure.."

"Keep to your vision, because from what you said, it does not depend on  _other_  people to fulfill it."  
Leliana agreed reluctantly. "I…yes, you are right. You wardens are doing a good work stopping the Blight, though some of you do not believe in Andraste and the Maker," she said, shooting Amadeus with a glare.


	65. Chapter 65

They passed through the halls, where corpses and corpses of templars, mages and abominations abound. Pulsating sacks of discolored flesh adorned the walls, and it took all their will not to add their puke on it. Behind every door is an unholy growling, and they had no choice but to kill everything inside where more of the same scene greeted them. At last, they reached the door to the next level, where they saw bodies of mages at the center surrounded by corpses of abominations and scorch marks. Amadeus approached it, knelt and closed the deep blue eyes on a face of a girl, wreathed with flaming hair.

Leliana was about to chant a prayer but Amadeus glared at her. "Save your breath. They need none of your lies."

She turned to Thorin but the dwarf only said by look to let it go. They waited until Amadeus was done and continued on silently. They moved up the stairs to the next level and opened the door. Within they found their first survivors who weren't crazy yet.

A group of mages were behind a barrier before a room, shielding children from the onslaught of a rage demon. It was roaring and trying to get at them with its claws, when the elder mage released a burst of energy that snuffed the flames. They waited for it to subside before approaching them. She looked up and noticed them.

"Stop right there, or I swear I will strike you down where you stand!" the elder mage said, her hand hovering protectively before the apprentices.

Amadeus stopped in his tracks. "Senior Enchanter Wynne. I thought you died at Ostagar. And so you came back?"

She looked at him and then remembered. "And so did you," she replied, relaxing her stance. "Have you come to warn us?"

They explained that the rite was coming from Denerim and they need to get to Irving, fast.

"If you are to kill abominations, let me help you. You will not be able to enter the rest of the tower as long as the barrier holds. I will dispel it if you join with me to save the Circle."

Amadeus threw up his hands. "Why is it that you people make it seem like we're the ones being helped and not the other way around? And  _dispel it if we join you_? Why? Are you going to let those trapped in there to die if we didn't agree to let you come along?"

The elder mage bristled at his words.

"Dispel the barrier or the Rite will make this all moot," he said, gesturing at the barrier and the children.

"I have never…" She was speechless at his insolence. "Stay where you stand. You shall not step any further." She made to use her staff but Thorin and Lelianna did their best to soften her.

"She should come. We might see other mages and it might help them not to attack us if they saw someone they could trust," Thorin said with a pointed look at Amadeus.

Amadeus looked at the dwarf for a moment then said, "Fine. She comes. Saves me the trouble of talking to mad people anyway."

Lelianna turned to Wynne and pleaded with her to please help them reach Irving. The elder mage hesitated, looking at Amadeus, then dispelled the barrier. She bade her assistant to watch out for the children before joining them. "I do not know what matter of beasts that lurk beyond this," she remarked as they moved forward.

"They'll be dead beasts when we're through with them," Amadeus answered.

Wynne looked at him and said "Your confidence is refreshing, though you must make sure it does not blind you to your weakness." Amadeus just rolled his eyes as they passed through the doorway.


	66. Chapter 66

The Brecilian group encountered a wounded Dalish and went back to camp to have him healed as well as talk to Zathrian, who stonewalled them. But the Dalish are not immune to gossiping, as the trio found out (Mahariel disapproved of questioning the word of a keeper). They found out that Zathrian lost his family long ago due to a bandit attack. His son was dead and his daughter followed him when she could not bear the pain of having been violated. In retaliation, he cursed those humans and all their descendants into their present forms.

There's nothing more to find out so back into the forest. Mahariel tracked the wolves easily enough but then they came to some point where they seem to be running in circles.

"We're lost, aren't we?" Neria said as they emerged on a very familiar path the fifth time.

"We are not lost." Mahariel frowned at the ground. This was certainly where the tracks led but they were being turned back to the same path again and again. "We are being misdirected."

"By whom? By..oh nonono…those tales saying the forest is alive is true? You can't be serious." Tabris looked at Mahariel and saw she is deadly serious.

"Alright. You're serious. Alright. This is it" Then he raised his voice "Oh Mister Forest, you can stop now, this isn't funny."

Silence.

"You are being ridiculous," Mahariel said to him with a look.

"I know, I know. You have a better idea to getting un-lost?"

Mahariel pointed at the ground. "I see a set of tracks leading to that direction." The tracks passed by somewhere where a clump of trees stood. When they got near those trees, they realized all the stories they were told were true.

If there was a time Mahariel thought she can slay her own kind, it would be this. At the moment, they were being attacked by possessed trees. Sylvans. Unfortunately for her, she was trapped in its roots. So she can only watch helplessly as her companions make asses of themselves.

"Timber! Timber!" Tabris yelled as one of the sylvans fell.

"What kinda killer are ye?" Brosca shouted at him as a tree stomped between them, pulling soil and roots out of the ground. He was full of scratches and covered in dirt and his companion isn't of much use.

"I was a burglar! I steal stuff by climbing trees, not stabbing them!" Tabris said behind a trunk, chipping at it with his daggers. He might as well be carving it with his initials for all the good it does. Mercifully, the tree decided to kick him so he rolled away.

"I thought ye killed some noble!" Brosca said, hacking at the other trunk.

"That was different. He has a neck. This doesn't!" Tabris buried his dagger to the wood but got stuck. He had to leave it behind as the tree lifted it to stomp him. Neria jumped in and she blasted fire on to the tree. It reeled, screaming in agony, as the flames leapt up and caught. It also rained sparks as it jerked, showering the three with embers as they danced between its legs.

"Now this is what they call frolicking!"

"Fer an elf, yer doin bad at it!"

"Oh shut up. I grew up in the city!"

Brosca hacked at one trunk while Tabris stabbed the other with his one good knife. Neria kept casting at it as it swayed wildly, trying to put out the fire. The three were covered in leaves and woodchips when they were done, their faces and hair covered in soot.

They were patting themselves free of debris when an oak came alive. They turned, ready to strike when it spoke. "What manner of beast is thee, that comes before this elder tree?"

"Look, the tree is talking," Tabris said, suprised and elbowed the rest. Mahariel, freed from the roots, had now stepped forward and said "I am an elf."

"Ah yes, I remember thy kind. So brief of life but blind to the peril you cause. The lives you take, such chaos is sown within their wake. Allow me to welcome thee. I am called the Grand Oak, sometimes the Elder tree."

"Why are you speaking like that?" Neria asked the tree.

"I do not know, why doest thou not. Thy words seem plain, a mundane lot. Perhap's a poet's soul's in me. Does that make me a poet-tree?

Tabris laughed while Brosca muttered "Bah. More Elf-shit."

The tree ignored him. "It was a simple jest, a jibe to entertain my guest. And unless thou think it far too soon, might I ask thee of a boon?"

When he told them what he wanted, Tabris asked "So this hermit stole your…nut?"

The oak said that the hermit was somewhere north, then he let them go. At one path, they saw some footprints that led north and might have been the hermit's own. Brosca asked if they were really going to help the crazy tree.

"Oh yes. Definitely. One's nut is one's own," Tabris answered. "Stealing someone else's? That's just rude."


	67. Chapter 67

At sunrise, the field around Redcliffe was strewn with corpses, both the long-dead and the recently dead. For the latter, only a scraggly keening is given to speed them to the Maker’s side.

Teagan, however, stood before the chantry and proclaimed “Dawn arrives, my friends, and we still remain. We are victorious.” There were no cheers that day, only silent acknowledgement, as their losses have been too great. They knew that next night, it will be the same battle, all over again.

Morrigan had silently rejoined her group from Maker knows where, feeling that she had said enough about saving the town and so did not try to quarrel with them. The two were too exhausted to reproach her for her desertion and, thinking scolding her wouldn’t have much effect anyway, likewise stayed silent. So they just watch as Teagan rallied the villagers to fight again for another night.

When he was done, Teagan led them to the mill above the town. There he revealed that there was a secret passage to the castle which can be opened by his family ring. However, before they can enact the plan, a woman came running to them from the castle.

“TEEEEEEEEGAAAAAAAAANNNNNNNNNN!”

“Maker’s breath, Isolde!” Bann Teagan said to the newcomer, the Arlessa, who stooped in front of them. 

“Thank the Maker you yet live,” she said, breathless and strangely pale. A ragtag group of guards had followed her, also breathless and sick looking. “I don’t have much time to explain. I slipped away from the castle and I need you to return with me, quickly. Alone.”

“Calm down. We’ll need more explanation than that.”

“What? I-” she finally noticed Elissa-“Who is this woman, Teagan?” she demanded.

Ah, Isolde. Everything may be going to hell around you but you always notice the competition.

“You remember me, Lady Isolde, don’t you?” Alistair interrupted. Poor man. Always second to strangers.

“Alistair? Of all the-why are you here?” She glared at him and looking as if she sucked something sour.

Teagan explained to her that they have arrived to save the town and the arl. After he was finished explaining, she made an insincere apology to them but made a passionate plea to the bann to save her son, who had gone mad. They asked if it was demons. She replied the madness had all started with an apostate whom she hired as part of the castle staff. Unfortunately, that mage was also a spy, secretly hired by Loghain to poison Eamon.

And now she wants Bann Teagan to come to with her, alone, as she had promised to a being holding her son hostage and who was also behind the nightly attacks. The bann agreed, reluctantly, which made the madwoman overjoyed. He turned towards the Wardens and explained, away from her, that they should also go to the castle by the secret entrance. The bann knew he might be going to his death and it is up to them to save the arl, if he fails. So he gave his ring to them and bid them luck.

They watched the Bann leave with the arlessa, then approached the mill.

* * *

They finally found the hermit who was responsible for the nut job. Tabris pleaded with him to return to the oak tree its one and only nut as it hasn’t been nutting lately. The hermit is not happy. Also not crazy. He won’t give it away with just nothing in return.

Tabris searched his pack to trade for the acorn. “Now, where did I put that book Cammen gave?” He looked up to find Mahariel glaring at him. “What?”

“It’s supposed be our secret,” Neria hissed at him.

Tabris thought for a moment then remembered. “Oh. Yeah. The secret. The secret that’s supposed to be…secret.”

Mahariel snatched the book to give to the mad hermit. After they retrieved the acorn, they marched back to the oak tree in mutinous silence.

“Do not do what you have done with Cammen and Gheyna again,” Mahariel finally said.

“Oh, come on.  You saw them both. They’re in love! It’s just ridiculous they can’t be together because of a pelt.”

Mahariel though was not impressed with his defense of romantic love.

“It is not just a pelt. Do you think bringing in a pelt is just a quaint practice of ours? By being able to hunt, a Dalish elf proves that he or she is able to act on her own and ready for the responsibilities of adulthood. Cammen has one, but only through your deceit.”

“So, you’re what, let him risk getting bitten by those werewolves just so he can prove that he’s all grown up and be with her?”

“Yes, because they need more than love to be together.”

Tabris raised his hands in exasperation. “Well, Mahariel, if you haven’t noticed it yet, we have a Blight. And the forest is full of rabid werewolves and darkspawn. You’re surely don't want Cammen to go and risk getting attacked by them because he has to get a pelt?”  

“He will have to bide for his time.”

“When? They might get attacked; he might die or she might die. The darkspawn might swan in their camp. ”

Mahariel stopped walking to turn to him and said “The practice was meant to teach the young to wean themselves off the impatience humans suffer from. The belief that everything must happen now is what destroyed us long ago. You should do well to remember this, if there is anything elvhen left in you.”

Tabris was silenced for a moment before replying “Maybe you’re wrong. Maybe the belief that everything must happen later is what made you lose.”  

* * *

Near a statue of Andraste in the common room, they found an abomination.  They spread out to surround it, when it noticed it was not alone and turned to face them.“Oh, look, visitors. I’d entertain you but..there’s too much effort involved,” the  demon said, languidly. He was standing over the body of some mage.

“How about giving us a death rattle? That is easy enough for you,” Amadeus drawled.

“But why? Are you not tired of all the violence in this world?”

“I am tired of all of this empty prattling.”

“If so, won’t you just like to lie down…and forget all this…..Leave it all behind,” it said, its voice sonorous and slow.

Amadeus forgot they weren’t all mages and turned around to his companions. “Don’t fall asleep! It’s a sloth demon!” but it was too late. The four were already sliding towards the ground.

When he turned back around, he came face to face with the demon. “You deserve a rest. The world..will go on…without you” it said, its eyes swirling dreamily.

He might as well not be harrowed, for he fell to a demon, just the same.


	68. Chapter 68

They walked in silence to the tree, who thanked them and gave them a magical bark to enter the barrier. After a while, they spotted ruins in the distance but before they could get close, they were attacked again by Swiftrunner and his pals. They defeated them but when Brosca was about to chop Swiftrunner into two, a white wolf sprang in front of him, startling him, making him stumble backwards. The wolf howled and in a flash, the wolves were gone.

There was nothing else to be done but enter the ruins. They had to go to many levels before they encounter their targets. There were ghosts (scream), an arcane horror (more screams) and a dragon (definitely more screaming). They had plenty of treasure to comfort them until Neria uncorked a bottle and she went rigid (long scream). She woke up eventually, babbling about griffons and armies.

Mahariel looked at Tabris and she knew she didn’t like what she saw. He was  silly and shallow, having no respect for their traditions and history, as he looked at the ruins and esteemed their value only as loot. He walked like a human, speak like a human and there is nothing elvhen in him despite his ears. He even worship their god, and adore their prophetess. The humans have truly ruined him in their own image.

He caught her looking at him and his expression hardened.  “Alright, let’s have it. What is your problem with me? You think I don’t see the pitying looks you and the other Dalish give me? Or that they clearly thought I’m some human slave? Because that’s what you’re thinking right now, isn’t it?

“No, I do not.”

“Yes you do.”

He was not going to drop the issue if she wouldn’t confess. “I only feel sorry for you, that the shemlens have controlled even your thoughts”.

“Don’t patronize me! You think you’re better than us? Don’t pretend that we’re not doing the same thing, living with humans.”

“We Dalish do not live with humans. We are free. While you chose to live in their cages.”

“I didn’t chose to live with them, I was born in it and I have learned to live with it.”

“And yet you say we are the same. We are not the same. We do not live with them, and learn to speak like them, live like them and talk like them. We know what we are, while you chose to abandon your heritage.”

“Really? This isn’t the same as living like us? Camping in a middle of a spooky forest. Getting attacked by werewolves and demon trees and what not. Only eating what you can get. And you think you’re better than us? We’re doing the same thing, dealing with humans. Only, you Dalish are just running away. Well you can’t run forever. You think there’s some big elvish army come to destroy all these humans and bring back all-" he waved at the ruins-”this? Because from what I see in humans and Dalish, if it comes to a fight, you are going to lose.”

“You have given up. You have forsaken the way.”

“No, I’ve not given up anything. I just accept the reality. The reality that elves will never be the same, and you are not going to make our kind better by mooning about the past.”

“The past is important! And we have lost it because of them! You wouldn’t understand; they have taken everything from you, filled you with their own thoughts until you are nothing more than their creature.”

“Yes, recovering lost history. Alright, that’s a great goal. But humans have scholars for that and they don’t think about how they were wronged by moaning about it in the woods!”  

“The humans have driven us out of Arlathan! They have driven us out of the Dales, even if their shemlen goddess promised us freedom! These are no trifle matters to make it seem like living in the forest is a petty act.”

“Well, yes, they did bad to you and they’re not sorry for it. But you’re not going to make them feel sorry if you just live in the woods and moan about it, with nothing but trees to hear you.”

“I am done with you mocking us.” She turned away but Tabris ran after her.

“Well you started it. Looking down at me for how I was brought up, when I didn’t have much choice.”

“You had a choice, and you wasted it. You are throwing your fate with them.”

“Humans are always going to be around. So, unless you Dalish want be around, learn to live with them.”

“So you are going to accept them as your masters?”

“I didn’t mean that. Only I just know that they’re going to be around whether you like it or not, so this living in the woods away from anyone wouldn’t help matters. Look, we have a long way to go to make humans respect us and it does not involve hiding away and just looking down your nose at everything that isn’t Dalish. The world doesn’t stay the same. It changes, and you either learn to change with it or be forgotten.”

“We will never forget what these shemlen has done to us.”

Tabris threw his hands in the air. “Fine! Hold on to your grudges. I hope you won’t have to regret it. Just don’t judge me on how I live my life, because you won’t be at the end of it.”

Then they fell silent with Neria and Brosca looking from one to the other. Tabris looked around at the ruins, hands on hips. “We’re supposed to be killing wolves. Why are we not killing wolves?” he asked to no one in particular.

* * *

Amadeus woke up in a fortress.

‘Where am I?” he said, sitting up and rubbing his head. It looked like he was at the top level of some castle.

“You are at Weisshaupt.”

Amadeus looked to his left and found Duncan walking towards him.He looked at Duncan a moment then said “That’s strange. You’re strolling like there’s no darkspawn left.”

“They are gone. You were there at the last great battle. It was a triumph for all of us, bringing down the archdemon and setting the underground lairs ablaze.”

“If they are gone, then it is finished. No more grey wardens. And I have somewhere to go.”

“The grey wardens are the keepers of history. We shall tell tales and sing songs of more tumultuous time, that others may rejoice in knowing that that time is past.

“Hmm, you know that is very funny. The Duncan I know isn’t the singing type.”

“The Duncan you know was forged on the fires of war. I am different now, at peace. I have learned to be tranquil.”

“Tranquil?” He narrowed his eyes. “So you’re not Duncan now? Because if I remember correctly, you were dead.”

“Dead, me? Ha!” Duncan laughed. “I have been close many times, but I never made it all the way.”

“Really? Because you see, if it was Duncan, he would’ve sighed like a flatulent ass, not laugh.” He readied his staff. “Who are you?”

Duncan gave up the pretense. His features screwed into something unnatural. “Foolish child. I have given you so much and you cast it back on my face. Can you not be content with the peace I offer?”

“You offer a false peace. Do you really think I can be taken in by that?”

“It seems war and death will only satisfy you. So be it! Have your war and your darkspawn! May they be your doom!”

Two others appeared and started attacking him, while Duncan drew his blade. Amadeus put up a shield, only long enough for him to transform into a giant spider. He covered Duncan in web, and skittered to the archer, pining him to the wall with his jaw and stung him, saw the poison working in his veins. He doubled back to the other one, who started to hack his legs, but he jumped and drove the twin fangs to his chest, putting his weight downward. Then he went to Duncan, who had uncovered himself, covered him again with webbing and stung him. He overcome the body, worrying the body again and again with his fangs until it stopped moving.

The archer made wheezing sounds, clawing at his throat, so he put him out of his misery.

The world fell silent. He walked to the center, where something like a lectern was standing. He waved his hand over it, testing, when it lit up and taken him away. 

* * *

 

He was transported to somewhere else, where Niall (a true one, he made sure of it), the mage whose body the sloth demon was eating back at the tower told him he must defeat five powerful demons to fight the sloth that trapped them and get out of here. He might as well told him to go fuck himself.

He sat on some ledge, weighing his options. He had no offensive spells except an arcane bolt, because embarrassingly, he can never learn primal spells, no matter how hard he tried. The magic of heat and cold, solidity and lightning, does not suit well with a style made of subtlety and careful deliberation. No matter his interest, his talents lie elsewhere. And he didn’t like it.

He had his forms, but what good is a dog or a spider against demons?

“What have we here? A mage.”

He looked down and found a mouse beside him. “Scurry away, demon. I’ve killed plenty of your kind and I will not hesitate to do the same to you.”

“You think I’m a demon?” it said, its whiskers twitching.

He gestured to the place. “This is the Fade. Real mice don’t talk. And I have to go back.”

 The mouse scampered to face him and said “Go back to where? To more suffering and death? Why go when you can live here forever? As you say, this is the Fade and time does not exist here. You can live here, free, without templars and darkspawn. Without all your enemies. You can live here without fear and pain.” When he was still silent, the mouse added "And you can have them all here, with you. All of them."

He finally answered. “But...it wouldn’t be real. So I need to get back.”

“To be hunted like vermin? Or be treated as a lesser being? Surely you know by now that struggling is futile. The people of your world will never treat you and your kind as their equal, no matter what you do. They will always see you with revulsion and fear. Tell me, why do you need to go back to a world like that?”

“Because I don’t want to talk to ugly ones like you forever that’s why!”

“Even so, you can’t get out of here. This world is ruled by powerful demons. Or you would have been gone a long time ago.”

“Watch me. I am and will find a way to get out of here.” He stood up and started pacing.

The mouse paused, its tail flickering. “I have been watching you for some time," it said after a while. "I have seen you, back at the tower, treated as if you were nothing and yet still you carry on, day by day, always with confidence that one day, you will get your wish. You continue to live, even with the death of-

“One more word and you will see what your brain looks like.”

“Why persist in struggling if there is no hope?”

"There is always hope. I just have to find it.”

“And if there isn’t?”

He loomed over the mouse. “There is always hope.”

The mouse silently watched him pacing to and fro, still planning his tactics.

“I can help.”

“Really? And what would the price be? That you have my soul?”

“Nothing is ever truly free. There is always a price.”

“Yes, but it is a price you are willing to pay. And right now, I am neither willing or paying.”

“Will you at least hear me?”

“Fine. All you do is talk anyway.”

When the mouse told him about the deal, he laughed.


	69. Chapter 69

It was a series of bloody battles, even with the fade forms the being taught him. No, it wasn't a battle, it was a hit and run. More than once, he remembered just outrunning his enemies while on fire, send a fireball when far enough to knock them down, then blasting them with fire as they scramble to their feet. It's not a dignified way to fight, but it gets the job done.

He had to kill the desire demon, the pride demon, the fear demon and the sloth demon, changing from mouse, to burning corpse, to arcane horror, then a golem, changing and healing between transformations. Along the way, he saved trapped mages and trapped templars, who were too pathetic to fight for themselves. All this and more. He had to save his companions. Alone.

He saved Leliana first. She was praying while a sister intoned over her. He never had any patience for these self-righteous hypocrites but he needed her and so convinced her gently, feeling every moment an urge to bite his tongue, that her faith wouldn't want her to succumb to false illusions brought by magic. The sister didn't like this at all, changed into a demon, only to fall later to their combined attacks. When Leliana suddenly vanished, he thought good riddance. Someone who cannot tell reality from fantasy has no business being with them.

Sten was next. At least he had the presence of mind not to be fooled by apparitions of his followers. They cut down his soldiers without any more arguing. The whining is becoming unbearable, anyway.

Wynne was surrounded by dead apprentices, mourning that she couldn't save them. It was hard trying to convince her, but then one of the corpses came alive and told her to stay. Big mistake. It should have stayed dead. So they made sure it stayed dead.

Then he got to Thorin. He was drinking with two other dwarfs. Those two were fair haired, fair skinned and their eyes were as blue as the sky unlike Thorin who was dark and had eyes shaded like sapphires. If it wasn't for the ridiculous ears, he wouldn't have known them as his brothers.

They were laughing. Amadeus never saw Thorin laugh like that before, his voice deep and rumbling like an echo of the mountains. The youngest was telling a story about when they were young, they stole a whole roasted nug and ate themselves sick. They had to confess the crime to their mother. They were bickering about who should tell about their crime but the projectile vomiting settled it. The spanking certainly made them unable to sit for days.

"Thorin," he called. Fortunately, Thorin recognized him. "Atrast vala," he greeted warmly. "Come, meet my brothers. We were just talking about our various escapades when we were young. Funny how the time flies."

"Thorin. They are not real. This is the Fade. This is an illusion," Amadeus repeated, wearily, for the fourth time.

Thorin looked at Amadeus, puzzled. "Of course they're real. I held them and spoke with them. They are flesh and blood, my flesh and blood."

It seems he can't be convinced by truth alone. "Thorin, don't you remember? We have a Blight to stop."

"Nonsense. There is no Blight. Come, brother. I have more tales to tell," said the youngest.

"Thorin, there is always darkspawn. We are fighting darkspawn."

"Oh, it can wait. But this can't wait," said the eldest, raising a tankard.

Amadeus said the only thing he knew Thorin will heed, regardless of anything. "You cannot abandon your duty."

Thorin looked at his brothers longingly for a while, then he shrugged. "Save some for me," he said, as he handed his mug to Bhelen and moved to follow Amadeus.

"No! You cannot go! You belong to us!" said Bhelen, his voice becoming demonic. He drew out his mace and attacked.

Thorin looked surprised for a moment, then he said "Oh, this I remember." He blocked the stroke with his shield, drawing his ax, while Amadeus casted a glyph at the other dwarf. He shrugged it off, so Amadeus turned into a dog and bowled him over. Before Trian could stand back up, Thorin rolled to him, swinging down his ax on the head. He felt it split open, then by instinct, put up his shield to block Bhelen's mace coming down for him. The dog sprang from behind him and closed its jaws on the Bhelen's neck. He tried to pry the animal off, but Thorin swept his ax against his legs and he fell. Thorin kicked away the mace and quartered him, while the dog tore a chunk off the neck. They watched, silent, hearing only the sounds of blood spurting from the gaping neck, until everything became still.

Thorin flicked his ax to get the blood off, but Trian's body caught his attention. "And this is what I was supposed to have done. At least I get to have the satisfaction of actually doing it."

"Are you done going mad?" Amadeus asked, human once more.

Thorin put away his ax and walked to him. "Nice work. Is this where you surfacers go when you sleep?"

Amadeus nodded.

"Hm. I couldn't imagine how you can even sleep. This place is unnerving."

"That from a veteran?"

"I have seen worse things. The only thing worse than that is having to relive them all over again."

Amadeus looked at the bodies of the fake brothers and murmured "You don't look much like your brothers."

Thorin shrugged and said "I take after my mother."

They started to walk towards the hill when the dwarf vanished. Amadeus sighed.

He was alone. Again.

* * *

He reached the last demon, where his companions reappeared beside him, each of them pissed that they were tricked. It seems the demon's little stunt to separate them had only made them unite even more strongly, even if it was hate that bound them together.

"I made you happy and safe. I gave you peace. I did my best for you and you say you want to leave?" It had the gall to ask.

Amadeus pointed at their faces. "Does this look happy to you? And what you gave was an illusion, not the real thing. We don't like being swindled."

"Can't you think for someone other than yourself? I'm hurt, so very, very hurt," it said, with mock-disappointment. When it didn't work, it switched to threatening. "You want to fight me? So be it." He transformed into an ogre.

Well, he's not the only one who can do that. Amadeus transformed himself into a golem, fighting power with power. The others looked at him in wonder, but Thorin immediately took over and worked in tandem with him, using more offensive tactics while Amadeus bore the brunt of the ogre's attacks. The demon was enraged and tried to burn them all, but Amadeus changed into fire and continued pummeling it. It saw that this didn't work so it became an abomination then a shade, sensing that physical power isn't enough. It was easier for them, it being roughly the same size until at last, it turned into its true twisted form, an arcane horror, trying to freeze them if it can't pummel, burn or slash them into bits.

It was a dogfight, but then it was over. They were burned and scratched and pummeled and sometimes thrown across the room, but they were alive. Amadeus set to work, healing, when Thorin suddenly clapped him on the back. It would have been great were it not that his hand felt like it came from a golem. Amadeus winced slightly, but it's not something he can't heal.

Niall was startled to see them when they got back to the starting place. But not for long. He was genuinely happy to see them all back. "You defeated the demon…I never thought…I never expected you to get free, to free us all."

Amadeus narrowed his eyes.  _Thank you for that vote of confidence, you prick_.

"When you return, take the Litanny of Adralla from my..body. It will protect you from the worst of blood magic."

"You're not coming with?" Thorin asked Niall.

The mage shook his head sadly. "No. I..won't have any body to return to."

Thorin looked at him for a moment then said "When we get back, we will make sure everyone at the tower know that you have saved the Circle. They will remember you and everything you have done for them."

"I...," Niall started to say, his eyes welling up, "Thank you...I don't know what to say... thank you." Amadeus just rolled his eyes. Typical for Thorin to make some awful speech. They didn't save the Circle yet.

They said goodbye quickly to Niall when the Fade shuddered around them, taking them back to their world.

* * *

They woke up, feeling they had awakened from a nightmare. But this was not the time to dwell on it so they picked themselves back up, retrieved the Litany from Niall's body and continued on their way. But before the door, a sight they had not seen the like made them pause. A Templar was huddled before a barrier, muttering nonsense.

Well, well, it must be his name day, as they found the templar was out of his wits. It appears the templars will also abandon their own, as they race towards safety.

"Is someone over there? I hope they're still alive," Lelianna said, skeptic now because of her experience in the Fade, unsure if it was really a Templar or another demon in disguise.

The templar heard her and said "This trick again? I know what you are. It won't work. I'll stay strong." What was his name? Carter? Colbien?

Wyne came closer to the barrier and examined him. "The boy is exhausted and this cage…I've never seen anything like it," she said to them after a while. To the templar she said "Rest easy…help is here."

"Enough visions! If anything in you is human..Kill me now and stop this game."

Amadeus stepped closer to the barrier and stared at the templar. Ah, Cullen.

"Don't touch me!" Cullen cried when he saw him. "Stay away! Sifting through my thoughts! Tempting me with the one thing I have always wanted but could never have. Using my shame against me…my ill-advised infatuation with her…A mage of all things."

"Well, do you now, you self-righteous prick. How do you like it, being tormented by demons because that's what happens when you sent mages into Harrowings!"

"Amadeus.." Thorin said, trying to intervene.

"We didn't come here to save this bag of shit," he answered the dwarf. He put his face closer to the sobbing templar. "Who's the mage you speak of?"

Cullen was silent.

Amadeus looked at him with contempt. "If I find her, I'll be sure to pass your affection for her along. I'm sure she would be gratified to know that you dream of possessing her like a…thing," he sneered.

"Amadeus, do not torment him further," Wynne said.

"Leave him be," seconded Thorin.

Amadeus looked back at them, dark with rage and pointed at the templar. "Leave him be? We mages have to fight demons all our life while he gets to cry like a baby at one! Tell me, is that fair?"

"He's already mad, Amadeus. There is nothing worse you can do to him. You'll only make yourself as mad as he is," Thorin replied. Amadeus bristled at his words and fought to stop himself from kicking the barrier.

"Silence! I won't listen to anything you say. Now begone," Cullen sobbed, while they watched him silently. After a moment, he looked up. "Still here? But that's always worked before. I close my eyes but you are still here when I open them. Look what they've done to it. They deserve to die. Looked for ways to break us-"

"Isn't that what you do to mages? And now you're crying when it's being done to you."

"-and to think I once thought we were too hard on you-"

"By the Stone, where is Irving?" Thorin demanded, cutting short Amadeus' burst of outrage.

"They are in the Harrowing chamber-" at once the group went up the stairs. "No! You can't save them! You don't know what they've become!"

"Duly noted. Now let's go!"

"Are you really saving anyone by this risk?" Cullen called out to them. "To ensure this horror is ended, to guarantee that no abominations or blood mages live…you must kill everyone up there."

Amadeus whirled around and stormed back to him. "Do you really think I would do that, you insufferable coward! You, who can't bear to see demons without pissing your breeches! You templars, bullying everyone but when trouble comes, are the first to start running! Whine here, if you will, because we mages," he glared hard at the templar "will set things right, as you should have done!"

Against Cullen's protest, the group went up and opened the door.


	70. Chapter 70

The Brecilian group met Swiftrunner again, together with his friends. Third times the charm indeed. Instead of attacking them like last time, he offered a parlay with the leader, saying that the Lady believes the Dalish had not told them everything. He added, snarling, that they would guarantee their safety as the Lady demands. Mahariel almost shot him for the insult of saying the Dalish are not trustworthy, but the others told her to at least hear what the Lady was about to say.

"Surely, you see Zathrian was acting very dodgy back there," Tabris said. Mahariel only glared at him but he was used to it by now. There's nothing he can do that can please the stiff-necked elf.

So they were led at the lowest level of the ruins, to a chamber overrun with giant tree roots and covered with green undergrowth, where the Lady of the Forest stood waiting.

She was naked, like a naked human, her long straight hair covering for her breasts as vines crept up from her legs to her thighs and groin. But they could never mistake her to be anything but unnatural, as her eyes gazed at them like dark pools, completely black. In a musical voice, she welcomed them and when they could only answer incoherently, swiftly moved on to parley. She revealed the nature of the curse and they knew then that Zathrian had not been telling the whole truth.

"Let me get this straight. He cursed you for something you hadn't done. Then you attacked his people for something they hadn't done to you. Is that right?" Tabris asked Swiftrunner.

"We spread the curse to his people so he must end the curse to save them," Swiftrunner said, growling.

"So that makes it all better now, is it? Brosca, are you following this?"

"Nah, I ain't gonna think hard on elf things. It's gonna rot my brain. I just wanna ask, who are we killin?"

The being turned to Mahariel. "Please mortal. You must go to him. Bring him here. If he hears these creatures, hears our plight….surely he will end the curse."

"And why would he do that?" Mahariel asked, her voice a little unsteady.

"Only I have the power to summon Witherfang. If he does not come, I can ensure Witherfang is never found and he will never break the curse and cure his people."

And so back to the top of the ruins. They were on the way to the Dalish camp when they stopped. Zathrian was coming for them.

"Ah. And here you are already" said the keeper, still smug. He picked his way carefully on the log down into the ruins, forward to where they stood.

Tabris crossed his arms. "And here you are. Mind telling us what's really going on? Because we went to the wolf lair and we had just known we were to clean up your mess."

Zathrian glared at him. He had already reached the ground and stood in front of them. "I am keeper of this clan and have done what I must. Did you acquire the heart?"

"Not yet since you keep lying. You lied that you can break the curse yourself, without having to kill those wolves. That's what the Lady of the Forest told us."

"Oh? Is that what the spirit calls herself now?"

"Wait, You knew each other and didn't tell us? Why am I not surprised?" Tabris said, flinging his hands up.

"And what does she want with me?"

"What do you think?"

"To survive, I suspect. That is the common nature of all things, the will to survive. You do not understand-"

"Oh, I understand very well. I understand that you sent us, in a middle of a creepy forest, full of killer trees and killer ghosts and rabid werewolves who can make us go mad like them with just a bite! And all along, you were responsible for it and you could have ended this, if you just cared more for your people and less for your pride!"

"They attacked my clan and they were the same savages they had ever been. They deserve to be wiped out and not defended," Zathrian said harshly.

"They are not savages. They could talk and reason. And they wouldn't have attacked your clan if you freed them from your curse."

"Even so, they are the same worthless creatures that their ancestors were. They deserve nothing more than the misery they possess. I do not expect you, a flat ear to understand. You have become accustomed to humans and they have made you to think as they would. That they deserve to be absolved without paying for their sins or admit their guilt."

"Really? So please do explain to a flat-ear like me why we should be doing what you want instead of what is right?"

"They are not right. You were not there. You did not see what…what they did to my son. To my daughter. To so many others." He turned to Mahariel. "You are Dalish. You know how we must struggle to be safe, how we must fight for justice. I could not let their crimes go unanswered."

"So you think you deserve justice but not them? Oh the hypocrisy, because they weren't the ones who did it to your family."

"Tell me, if you held your daughter's lifeless body in your arms, will you not also have sworn an eternity of pain on those who did such to her?"

"Yes. But I wouldn't go out of my way to punish those who didn't do it, even involving my own people." He had held Shianni's broken body, but that does not mean he would slaughter every human he met for what one of them did to her. That bastard is now rotting in the grave.

"The Lady only wished you to talk with them," Mahariel quietly said.

Zathrian looked from Tabris to Mahariel and saw he could not move them as he wished. "Very well. You wish me to go and talk? I will do so. But what is only revenge that they wish? Will you safegurad me from harm?"

"If that is what they wish, then yes, I will defend you."

* * *

"So here you are spirit," Zathrian greeted the being when he entered the chamber. The wolves started snarling at the sight of him. Faster than all of them, Swiftrunner bounded forward and growled at him. "She is the Lady of the Forest. You will address her properly." That only made the keeper mock them. Swiftrunner snarled and urged the lady to kill him now.

The Lady calmed them down. She still looked serene even when she turned her eyes to their tormentor. "It does not have to be that way. There is room in your heart for compassion. Surely your retribution is spent," she pleaded to Zathrian.

"My retribution is eternal, spirit, as is my pain. This is justice, no more."

"Are you certain your pain is the only reason you will not end this curse? Have you told them how it was created?"

"He said he summoned you and bound you to a wolf," Tabris answered, arms crossed.

"And so he did. But such powerful magic cannot be accomplished without his own blood."

"What the-you're a blood mage?" Tabris asked Zathrian, horrified. He and all other elf children had been told at some point that they'll be sent to Tevinter, a land of blasphemy and bloodmages, to make them behave. As adults, they were still being told that now, and seeing a bloodmage so near him, is terrifying.

"Your people believed you had discovered the immortality of your people, but that is not true. So long as the curse exist, so do you."

"Hah. Sellin yer own people to save yer skin? Ain't surprised."

"That is not it! I did what was necessary. I did what was just, and it still is!" The keeper protested.

"The curse would not end with Zathrian's death. His life, however, relies on its existence. And I believe his death plays the part at its ending."

"Then we kill him! We tear him apart!" Swiftrunner roared and his wolves started howling.

Zathrian was undaunted by them and said "See? They are beasts still. What would you gain from it? Only I know how the ritual ends and I will never do it." Then he turned to them, his eyes on Mahariel "Help me, dalen. Help me get rid of this evil and save our people."

"The only one evil here is you. If you really cared for your people, you would have ended the curse before it came to this point. No, you want to have your revenge, and you expect us to do your dirty work for you," Tabris said. Zathrian ignored him and waited for the Dalish elf's answer.

All of them turned towards Mahariel.

She was wrong. She was wrong to think that keepers are infallible, that the Dalish are always blameless. For now she knows that her people are also capable of doing great evil and-what other things had they done? What other things had they done in their hate for anything not of their own?

She let out a breath then finally said, faltering, "This is not justice, Keeper. To inflict suffering onto others, people who are innocent of the crime-you know this is not right." She looked at Zathrian once more with the reverence she always feel towards keepers, then stiffened her resolve and said firmly "You have to end that curse, even if I have to force you myself."

Zathrian was silent at her words then he snarled "Then you die with them! All of you will suffer as you deserve!" He raised his staff and then the trees around them roared into life. He raised it again and shades sprang from the ground, surrounding them.

They were greatly outmatched.

Mahariel's arrows were useless against the sylvans, who started sweeping with their massive hands, throwing elf and wolves into the air. Tabris' daggers and Brosca's sword passed harmlessly through the shades, who with their shadowy limbs, raked wounds across their bodies.

At the center of it all, Zathrian was calm, except his eyes burned with vengeance and delight at their suffering.

"You stupid piece of nugshit!" Neria screamed and directed her staff against the keeper.

And the room burst into an inferno. It was the image of hell itself, as flames rained from above, catching wolves, sylvans, shades, lapping up the trees, until everything turns to ash. The air was filled with smoke and ruin, cries of pain and fear, the trees swaying wildly, trying to put out the flames, the shades disappearing into the floor as the fire consumed them.

"Neria!"

She turned away from the scene and saw through the haze Tabris calling for her, trying to put out the fire on Brosca. Somewhere away, Mahariel was leaping this way and that, branches of fire falling all around her.

At once anger went out of her and she felt fear. She tried to put out the fire with a cone of cold, but the fire was too fierce and lapped it up as soon as it appeared. As the cries became shriller, she casted the a cold spell again, adding a wish to save them.

Suddenly, instead of fire, snow had fallen from the ceiling and an icy wind snuffed out the flames. The room was bathed anew in white as a blizzard went through the room.

Tabris stumbled blindly and found the doorway to the upper level, dragging Brosca away from the room and into the steps, while Mahariel and Neria followed them later. They reclined on the steps, too tired to do more than catch their breath and shake the ice and the cold off their bodies, waiting for the storm to clear.

"You think anyone got out there?" Tabris asked. No one answered.

When the storm cleared, they made their way to the icy chamber where they found Zathrian frozen, along with some of his shades. Brosca went through them with his greatsword, shattering them, leaving the keeper alone. Some of the wolves were also frozen and they winced as they thawed. They looked at Neria with anger, but that went away when they saw their enemy also encased in ice. They had to stop the wolves from killing him outright, reminding them that they need his help to undo the curse. The Lady seconded them, feeling no ill will against them even when she was frozen along with their enemy.

When Zathrian finally unfroze, he found his staff taken from him and his enemies surrounding him.

"Finish it. Kill him now," Swiftrunner urged them.

The Lady interposed and said "No, Swiftrunner. We will not kill him. If there is no room in our hearts for mercy, then how would we expect it from his?"

Zathrian looked at the Lady and unexpectedly, was moved by her compassion.

He was tired, too tired, tired with this battle and with this quest for vengeance. At his moment of defeat, he examined his life once more and decide whether to surrender or to go onto death fighting for his wish. He remembered the years he had lived, and wondered if his need for revenge was worth it all. But he felt only emptiness and none of the peace or satisfaction he dreamed of getting. It only haunted him more with those he had lost. "I cannot do as you ask, spirit. I am too old, to know mercy. All I see are the faces of my children, my people. I…I cannot do it."

"Keeper, will you let the clan die for this? You and I know that you are better than this," Mahariel said.

Zathrian was silent. He now wanted to be at peace and to be with his family. "Perhaps I have lived too long. The hatred in me is ancient, like a gnarled root. It has consumed my soul," he said, softly. Then he looked at the Lady now with concern instead of hostility. "What of you, spirit? You are bound to the curse just as I am. Do you not fear your end?"

"You are my maker, Zathrian. Through you, I have experienced pain and love, hope and fear, all the joy that is life. Yet of all things I desire no more than an end. Please, I beg you, put an end to me. We beg you, show mercy," the Lady said, kneeling before him. The wolves followed suit, kneeling, murmuring a plea. "Show mercy," they begged, as Zathrian looked over them all.

"You shame me, spirit. I am an old man, who lived past his prime," Zathrian said to the Lady.

"Will you end the curse?"

Zathrian looked at them all, the werewolves and the Wardens, and smiled sadly. "Yes, I think it is time."


	71. Chapter 71

The Wardens stood agape, as a jest of all jests was being performed in front of them.

On the dais inside the great hall, Bann Teagan was cavorting and dancing in front of a boy, clapping his hands in delight, while his mother and the castle guards watched him with terrified eyes.

They went through the secret passage, under the lake and into the dungeons of the castle, where they fought more undead, and encountered Loghain's spy in one of the cells. The mage was feebly protesting that he was not behind the attack but admitted poisoning the Arl. He also revealed why Isolde was stupid enough to hire an apostate: Connor is a mage. She was frightened that the Circle will take him away, so, as not to be separated from her dear boy, she hid the signs of magic from her husband, from everyone and decided to have someone tutor him secretly. She didn't know that the tutor was spoken for.

So they went through all that for this?

When the boy noticed there were others watching, he turned to them. "So these are our visitors? The one you told me about, Mother?"

The odious bitch had ratted them out as well as made a fool of her brother-in-law. They might as well have strolled through the front door, instead of fighting their way through underground passages and try to do a surprise rescue.

"These are the ones who defeated my soldiers? The ones I sent to reclaim the village?" asked the mad boy.

"Yes Connor," answered his mother.

Connor peered at them. "And now it's staring at me! What is it, Mother? I can't see it well enough."

She looked at Elissa, who was too horrified to say anything. "This is a woman, Connor. You've seen them before. We had them here, at the castle-"

"Had them? For dinner, maybe. Looks like a tough chew, maybe in a nice stew. Shall I send it to the kitchens, Mother?"

"Connor, I beg you, don't hurt anyone!"

At that, the boy swayed for a second, then looked around, frightened and lost. "Mother, what is happening? What's happening? Where am I?" he said, in his little boy voice.

Isolde fell to her knees "Oh, thank the Maker! Connor! Connor, can you hear me?"

"Get away from me, foul woman! You are beginning to bore me," said the boy suddenly, back to being demonic.

The arlessa turned to Elissa. "Grey Warden, please don't hurt my son! He's not responsible for what he does!" she had the gall to ask, as her brother in law pirouetted across the hall.

"What did you do to Bann Teagan?" Alistair asked, indignant, watching the person he thought as kin tumbling around the floor.

"Here I am! Here I am!" The bann said, so honorable and compassionate, now reduced to a mockery of his former self. He looked at them with a stupid grin on his lips and squatted creepily, which would have been funny had it not been that they saw him reasonable just hours ago.

"I like him better this way, no more yelling, now he amuses me," said the demon boy.

"Connor didn't mean to do this! It was that mage, who poisoned Eamon, he started all this! He summoned this demon! Connor was just trying to save his father!" Isolde wailed. Pass the bucket. Nevermind that you also shat in it.

"And made a deal with a demon to do so? Foolish child," Morrigan said, disgusted at the spectacle.

"It was a fair deal! Father is alive, just as I wanted! Now, it's my turn to sit in the throne and send out armies to conquer the world. Nobody tells me what to do anymore," the boy proclaimed.

"Nobody tells him to do. Nobody! Hee-hee!" said the mad bann.

"Quiet uncle. I warned you what would happen if you kept shouting, didn't I? but let's be civil," Connor scolded before turning back to Elissa. "This woman will have the audience she seeks. Tell me woman…what have you come here for?"

Elissa swallowed to wet her dry throat and said "I came here to help, Connor"

"To help me? Or to help my Father? To help yourself? Which?"

All of the above. Maker knows they need it.

"To help everyone."

"I was just having fun! Everyone else had fun too! Are you having fun, Uncle?" he asked the bann.

"Marmalade!"

The demon boy turned back to them. "You see? We're having fun. I think you're just here to spoil things. What do you think, Mother? I think it's threatening me."

"I..I don't think-"

"Of course you don't. Ever since you sent the knights away, you do nothing but deprive me of my fun. Frankly, it's getting dull. I crave excitement! I crave action! And this woman," he pointed at Elissa, " had spoiled my sport in that stupid village, and now, she'll repay me!"

At that, Bann Teagan and the knight thralls attacked them. Elissa was reluctant to hurt them,hoping to restore them to their senses. She called to them, reminding them that they were honorable knights and they swore to protect the innocent but their ears heed only one voice. The dog knew better, that they were beyond saving, and so took down anyone attempting to kill his mistress. Alistair shouted to just knock the Bann unconcious, as swords flew around him and he was pressed hard behind his shield. The witch kept a cool head, casting destruction and hexes to anyone within reach. Being outnumbered, they would have died, had not that all their opponents have been driven mad.

With its puppets defeated, the demon boy gave a cry and ran out of the room and into the rooms upstairs.

"Are you alright?" asked Elissa as she helped Isolde stand back up from the corner where she huddled.

"Don't hurt him," she wailed, paying no mind to the unconcious and bloody bann and the dead knights. all around them.

Alistair applied poultice to Bann Teagan, who after a few moments, seemed to be back to his former self, although he was still feeble.

"Teagan! Teagan! Are you alright? Blessed Andraste, I never have forgiven myself if you died, not after I brought you here. What a fool am I." She turned to Elissa. "Please, Connor's not responsible for this! There must be some way to save him."

" I do not know if we can save him. Demons never listen to reason," Teagan said sadly.

The arlessa swore that Connor is still inside and sometimes may break through. She said she only wanted to protect him from the Circle by hiding his gifts, hiring an apostate to teach him secretly.

Elissa turned in dismay to the group. "Is there any other way?"

"There might be a way to confront the demon in the fade. To let go of the boy. However, it will take a great power to enter the Fade as we are," Morrigan said.

"Lyrium?"

"Possibly. You will also need a mage to do it but it will not be me. Not I. I am done with this foolishness."

"Then we need to ask for mages and lyrium from the Circle. Hey, Thorin and the others was headed there. I think if we explain this to them, they'll get what we need to save Connor," Alistair said, still compassionate, to the one person who never deserved it.

Elissa agreed and started convincing Morrigan use her shapeshifting powers to ask help from the Kinloch group. Meanwhile, the men convened among themselves how to lock Connor in the castle, and also to prepare the defense of the town for the nightly siege as they wait for the mages and lyrium.

After a long while, Morrigan huffed and flew in a shower of black feathers, glad to finally be rid of their company.

* * *

Amadeus and his group finally arrived at the top floor. As usual, there's an ugly monster sitting in it. No princesses getting rescued from towers here. The builders really do not follow conventions.

"Ah, look what we have here. Irving's star pupil. Uldred didn't think much of you then, and I certainly don't see the appeal of you now," the monstrosity said, turning around from an abomination wearing the robes of the mage it came from. Its minions hissed as it saw them.

"Thank you. I am always a sucker for compliments. Let me thank you back by killing you," Amadeus answered, noticing Irving and the other mages scattered around the room, weak from fighting.

"Fight if you must. It will make my victory all the more sweeter," said the Uldred Abomination.

"Remember the Litany," Wynne whispered to him as they moved into positions.

The abomination twisted into Pride and ordered its minions to attack them. He tried assuming control of the rest of the mages, but Amadeus read the Litany as the others attacked it. Thorin kept the focus of the enemy on him while Sten dealt damage. Leliana and Wynne kept away as possible as they attacked from range. Amadeus cast shields, rejuvenation and healing spells left and right as the bastard was a very hard opponent. Mages are always a pain in the ass, particularly when they're not on your side.

The battle was drawn-out, but they emerged victorious. The abomination toppled to the floor, shaking the whole tower with his fall.

"Maker, I'm too old for this," Irving said, as Amadeus and Wynne helped him up from either side.

"Are you alright?" Wynne asked.

"I've..been better. I suppose it is your doing, Wynne?"

"I wasn't alone. I had help," Wynne said, smiling at the wardens' group. Amadeus just kept silent.  _Oh yes, give the credit to the old lady, like it was her idea to save you._

Irving looked at him. "I'm surprised to see you standing here. But I am glad you have returned. The circle owes all of you a debt we will never be able to repay." He was finally on his feet. "Come, the templars await. We shall let them know the tower is ours."

So back to Gregoire. He was actually glad to see Irving alive.

"It is over, Gregoire. Uldred…is dead," Irving said, wincing with every step toward the knight commander. Not far behind was Cullen, who had finally realized they are not apparitions and trailed behind them fearfully.

When the rescued mages emerged, Cullen cried out. "Uldred tortured these mages, hoping to break their wills and turn them into abominations. We don't know how many of them have turned."

"What? Don't be ridiculous," Irving said.

"He's out of his mind. Just look at him. You can't trust anything he says," Amadeus insinuated. He'll be damned first before some milk-blooded half-wit get his allies killed after all the trouble they had to save them.

"Of course he'll say that! He might be a blood mage! Don't you know what they did? I won't let this happen again." Shaking, Cullen tried to draw his sword. His brothers saw it and tried to draw their weapons too.

"I am Knight-Commander, not you," Gregoire said to him, puffing up. He looked at each of them in turn, reminding them who's in charge.

"I believe order is restored to the Circle," Amadeus said swiftly before Cullen tries to change Gregoire's mind. It would have been better if he said he had done the templar's job better than they could, but let's be diplomatic.

Gregoire was satisfied with his report and declared "We have won back the tower." Amadeus gritted his teeth.  _What we? First the old lady, now you? Everyone's taking credit where it isn't due_.

"I believe Irving's assurance that all is well," Gregoire added. Cullen started to protest but Gregoire shouted him down. Then he excused himself to them, saying he had to oversee the sweep of the tower and find other survivors.

Amadeus was really fuming with them all so he gave only curt answers when Irving approached them, only staying to talk until Irving promised the help of the Circle mages against the Blight. And then he left to haggle for lyrium potions and other things they will need with the quartermaster, so he didn't hear that Wynne had asked Irving to join them. If he did, he would've left the old lady where she belongs, together with the rest of these self-important fools. Thorin, however, had other plans, and witnessing Amadeus' unreliable temper, thought that another healer on hand looked like a good idea.

It seems they couldn't leave yet, as a raven flew to Amadeus' shoulder and pecked at him. Bad news travel on dark wings, indeed.


	72. Chapter 72

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you all for the reviews, hits and kudos. Also: Warning! Homosexual content ahead (Hint: it starts with Z).

 

At the Dalish camp, the elves afflicted with bites were healed and reunited to their families. Athras held on to his wife's scarf, as his clanspeople rejoiced at the return of their loved ones.

The Wardens had told what happened at the ruins to Lanaya, the new keeper. She was sad to hear about Zathrian's death, but she had vowed that when they call for the Dalish, her people would be there. She was also told that the humans would trouble them no more, for having been freed of their curse, they went back to their homes.

They bid the clan goodbye and were setting out, when they realized they were missing an elf.

"Neria!" Tabris girl was talking to the new keeper. When she heard him call her, she remembered they were supposed to be moving and came pattering towards them. When she got close, Tabris joked "Are you asking Lanaya if you can stay with them?"

"No. I was asking her if she knew anyone named Surana."

The three other companions looked at her with pity.

"What did she say?"

"She didn't know anyone with that name."

Tabris nearly choked. "I'm..sorry. I also don't know anyone named Surana back at the alienage."

"Nor of my clan," Mahariel added.

Neria thought for a moment and said "It's alright. I didn't like that name anyway. Besides, that's what the templars called me and they're always lying."

"Soddin templars."

Tabris threw his arm around Neria. "Oh, when we're done with this, we'll make sure everyone will know you always as Neria." He looked at the others and a kind of understanding passed through each of them, unseen by the girl.

"Aye. We gonna be so famous no one ain't gonna call us but our first names."

"Really? What's your first name? Is it Slack Jaw?"

"Yer wrong, Longface."

"Crabby"

"Nugfart"

* * *

As they were walking beside a shallow river, Tabris noticed Brosca isn't well. The dwarf almost looked green in full light and was keeping his hands together very closely.

"Brosca, are you alright?" he asked him.

The dwarf tried to wave him off. "Aye. Just some tremblin, is all."

"No it's not. Are you sick? Because we can-"

"I ain't sick. I needa drink."

"Well, we don't have a tavern near here. And I don't think the Dalish have beer."

"Sod the Dalish. Am good."

"What's going on, really?"

"I toldya I needa drink. But I ain't touchin the stuff no more."

"Why not?"

"Remember Lothering? When I said I needa drink? I shuddna led ye to dat tavern. Y'all coulda been killed."

"Don't blame yourself. We survived right? And it's not like you sent those people to attack us."

"Aye, but I shudda known this drinkin will get me and ye in trouble."

The dwarf walked further in silence.

"This drinkin cost me me family. Took a Blight to make me see that I failed dem. If only I've been good, I wouldna lose dem. But I ain't gonna do the same again." He turned towards them. "I ain't done right by me sister, but I ain't gonna do that all of ye." At that, the dwarf ran past him and jumped in the river. The others stared open-mouthed then began shouting, but too late. The dwarf landed in the river with a splash.

"AAARGHHH! Soddin nughumpers! It's cold!

"You're crazy! Don't kill yourself, you stupid dwarf!" Tabris yelled, as the others searched for anything, a rope, a branch to get the dwarf on dry land once again.

"I ain't killin myself, ye stupid elf! I just wanna stop these trembling," the dwarf shouted back as he kept himself above the water.

"Really? Because you're doing a bad job of it!"

"Stop natterin and help me up!"

They helped a very wet and freezing dwarf out of the water. Neria produced a fire to warm the dwarf, which unfortunately brought out the smell of too many days worth of unwashed body.

"Better?" Tabris asked him, covering his nose, as he threw another blanket to the dwarf. The dwarf caught it and wrapped himself in it, while Mahariel went off to set the camp.

"I ain't gonna lie, I ain't gonna be better fer a long time. But am gonna get there," the dwarf promised.

* * *

On the road to Redcliffe, the trio spotted Mahariel talking (or glaring?) at a human woman at the middle of the road. When the woman saw them, she cried for help and dashed off. Whooping at a chance to play the knight to a damsel in distress, Tabris led the three to follow the girl. Their damsel, however, isn't a princess but an assassin. She had led them to an ambush, with a blond, tanned elf looking like the mastermind of the operation. Their grins show that they expected horrible shrieking or begging for mercy from the Wardens.

Neria, however, was ecstatic.

"Bandits!Bandits! Where's the money?" she asked the ambushers excitedly.

"Neria, we're not the bandits here. We can't just take their stuff," Tabris explained, drawing his weapons.

"When, then?"

"They should say _give me your money_ first."

Neria yelled at their enemies. "You heard him! Say _give me your money_ so we can take your stuff!"

"The Grey Wardens die here!" cried the elf-leader.

"That also works."

It was a bloody battle. Stab, Stab, Stab. Dying noises. Very boring, unless you're the one doing the stabbing, or the bleeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeding.

When the last bandit fell, the three started rummaging in the fallen's pockets for loot while Mahariel stood guard. Neria went directly for the elf leader and poked the body with her staff. After a couple pokes, the body twitched.

"It's alive! It's alive!" she yelled.

"Quick! Kill it with fire-get away from it," Tabris advised, as Mahariel frowned at him.

The ruckus woke the elf-bandit. "Mmm..what?" said he, half-sitting.

Borsca loomed over him and said to the others "He ain't just a bandit. Tie him up and we gonna ask him how he know we're Grey Wardens."

The elf-not bandit heard that. "Ah, so I'm to be interrogated then? Let me save you some time. My name's Zevran. Zev, to my friends," he said, rolling his rs and trying to be charming. They were not impressed.

"Who cares for your nickname? We're not your friends. You can be Dunghill for all I care," Neria said, angry now, because it seems she would have no loot today.

"Why had you attacked us?" Mahariel asked, her arrow on him.

"I am an Antivan Crow brought here for the sole purpose of slaying Grey Wardens."

Tabris went pale while Neria asked "Crow? What's that?"

"You are not a crow. You are an elf," Mahariel reminded the Antivan.

"Crow. Big C. They're an order of assassins in Antiva calling themselves Crows," Tabris explained.

"Crow? More like Chicken," Neria said dismissively.

"A pathetic name to call themselves that. Crows are not fearsome, and if their intention was to inspire fear, they are failing. Although looking at this attack, the name is very fitting."

"Ye-es, why don't we ask about the group name later? We should be asking why an order of assassins is sent after us!"

"Them gettin paid?"

"Yeah. Antivan Crows-they don't come cheap. Someone is putting a lot of gold for us."

Brosca turned to their prisoner. "So who paid ye?"

"A rather taciturn fellow in the capital. Loghain, I think his name was," the elf answered.

"You're working for that bitch Loghain?!"

Zevran told the group that yes, he was hired by Loghain to kill them and now that he failed, the Crows are going to kill him instead. He proposed serving them in exchange for their protection. Brosca helped him up as Mahariel protested. She only stopped when Brosca said they're hauling his ass to the boss so he can see for himself.

* * *

The Kinloch Group had arrived at the castle in Redcliffe, with mages in tow. But not before they saw the destruction of the village and heard the cries of the bereaved.

At the Great Hall after dinner, Elissa explained more fully the situation to Thorin, finishing that only the mages can help Connor and the town. The alternative was killing a child. When she was done explaining, Thorin looked gravely at Elissa and Alistair. "And so you allowed this madness to go on. You let a lot of people die and risk the safety of the villagers so you could save this one boy." He paused before saying coldly "You should have killed him and be done with it."

The arlessa wailed her protests but he shot her a look that stopped her in the middle of her bleating. "You are not the only one who has lost a husband and son, Madam. Many mothers back in the village are weeping, as you do now. If only you did what was right, as you should have done before it reached this point." Thorin saw many had died in the interim of waiting for help from Kinloch. Too much lives lost, for too little gain.

"If there is anyone who has to die, let it be me. Not Connor. He is innocent of this madness. I...I admit I am to blame for letting that bloodmage in. But please don't punish my son because of me," the arlessa pleaded.

"Your honesty partly redeems you but what good will that do? Will it stop the attacks? You may be responsible for this but as you can see, its consequences did not fall on you. Your son and your people are the ones paying the price for your folly."

"I....I have talked to the bloodmage in the dungeons. He said he could use his powers to send a mage to where the demon is keeping Connor. But it would need a sacrifice. I would have been willing to do it, if only to save my son."

Thorin sat back and looked at her, narrowing his eyes. "So you would still trust this bloodmage even though he poisoned your husband, turned your brother in law into a fool and made a monster of your son? How can you be sure he would not release an even worse horror upon us?" Then he turned to Elissa and Alistair. "And what of you two? What do you say to this? She says there was another way to remove the demon without killing the boy."

"We didn't consider it because it's bloodmagic. It's evil, Thorin," Elissa said, in a near whisper.

"Is it as evil as letting innocents die just to avoid using it?" When they kept silent, he rubbed his head and asked "Why did you let this go on for too long?"

Elissa appealed that if they kill Connor or agree to have Isolde sacrifice herself, the arl won't be too amiable to their request with his son or wife dead and the executioners pressing him for help. And it's not as though they are completely uncaring. They helped defend the village every night, though with only three of them and a small group of militia, there were losses. Thorin shot back that it was not a request, it is an obligation, duly signed and sworn, whatever the circumstances may be. The treaty will still stand, even if the arl's family is dead.

Alistair looked at him with anger and said "How could you think about killing Connor? A little boy…"

Thorin replied, with an angry glare of his own, by asking how could Alistair think to sacrifice the lives of men, women and children down the village just to save this one boy, who also was the cause of the attack that endangers them. Alistair was mollified enough with this but said, pouting, that this was the arl's son and wife and he owes the arl too much to let his family die. Thorin replied that the dead had families too, and just because they were strangers, does not mean that their lives are worth throwing away for nothing.

Amadeus pointed out that the argument is moot since they're here now and the mages and lyrium needed for the ritual is available. Thorin glared at the two one more time, and said that that the burden of the guilt is on their heads.

Later that evening, when most of the castle's inhabitants were asleep, the Brecilian Group appeared. As the newcomers ate their dinner, Thorin told the story about what happened at the tower, because Amadeus would only just pepper it with snide comments about the mages and templars. Still, he could not keep the little pride off his voice when he recounted how he killed many powerful demons and saved them all from the Fade. Alone.

"You turned into a golem?" Tabris asked Amadeus in wonder.

"I also turned into a burning corpse, and an arcane horror."

"Yeah, but a golem? Imagine if we had a golem on our side! It can just roll and the darkspawn will get splattered to bits."

It would have been nice too, if he had those forms. He finally felt what it feels to just burn your enemies to the ground or froze them so cold, they break apart. It felt amazing. But it seems those forms are only limited to the Fade. So now, it seems he would have to learn to be content to live in the shadow while the others get all the attention. He will always be needed, but never wanted. And for someone like him, that is something hard to swallow.

"So, what were you four up to there? Trouble, if I know from our recent experience," Thorin asked the Brecilian Group.

Tabris shrugged. "Talking trees, talking wolves, talking bottles. And too many nuts." 

"Yes, there are plenty of acorns and oaks in the forest. Some of the trees were possessed by spirits, which are called silvans," Mahariel added.

"Not that kind of nuts." Tabris told them how they resolved the war of the Dalish and the werewolves, with Mahariel adding something here or there. Thorin nodded at them and said they had done a good job of it.

"Oh, I almost forgot. We had something to show to all of you," Tabris said, getting up. He came back later with a guard leading an elf bound in ropes. He nodded at the guard, where he turned on his heel and left his charge to them.

The stranger was short with a slender build, tanned skin, blond hair and an unfamiliar tattoo on one side of his face. He was handsome, in a roguish kind of way and smiled at them like he was their honoured guest. The Brecilian group gave a brief explanation of who the stranger is and how they came by him. They also informed their companions that their enemy, the elf's employer, is still very much out for their blood.

Thorin looked at the trio then at the bound elf. "Why is it that when it's the three of you together, you're collecting people like stray pets? Dangerous, stray pets?"

"Oh come on. Yev done the same. Who's the prune?" Brosca asked, nodding at the new mage.

"It's Senior Enchanter Wynne, young dwarf," Wynne answered.

"Stone-met, Senior Enchanter Prune."

"The fact is, she's actually trustworthy, while yours is an assassin," Thorin said quickly to reduce the insult to the elder mage.

"Mebbe. But ours is prettier."

 Zevran flashed his most charming smile.

"And you allowed this?" Thorin asked Mahariel. There's just no talking to Brosca.

"I did not approve of him. But they were very fond of the elf."

"He's our prisoner of war!" Neria hooted.

"Ooooh, big words!"

Neria aimed a kick at Alistair's shins but missed.

"Alright. Why do you think we'll let you come with us?" Thorin turned to the prisoner. The elf turned on the charm and pleaded for his life. "I failed to kill you so my life is forfeit. That's how it works. If you kill me, my colleagues, the other Crows will, for failing my contract. But the thing is, I like living. And since you are the sort that gives them pause, let me serve you instead."

"Are we supposed to believe this? What's stopping you from slitting our throats as we sleep?" 

"Slit your throats? No, no, no, my dear Warden. That would be terribly bad manners, no?"

"I shudder to think what your good manners will be," Amadeus commented.

Thorin continued his interrogation. "By this attack does this mean you're loyal to Loghain?"

"I have no idea what his issues are with you. The usual, I imagine. You threaten his power, yes?" They were silent, so Zevran continued. "Beyond that, no, I'm not loyal to him. I was contracted to perform a service."

"And now that you've failed that service?"

"Well, that's between Loghain and the Crows," he said, smiling a little. "And between the Crows and myself."

Thorin looked at the elf for a long time then said to Tabris "Get him out of here and put him somewhere six feet deep."

"He's going to die anyway if he fought with us," Amadeus shrugged.

"One failed assassination and I am shamed for life."

Thorin turned to the mage. "Alright. Why spare him?"

"Simple. Because the Blight is bad for business, am I right?" Amadeus asked the elf, who just shrugged. "I think if you had succeeded in killing us, your next contract will be killing the Archdemon. Without coin. Your Crows will be thinking of ending the Blight, so the nobles can go back and bicker among themselves."

"There are still other wardens to stop the Blight," Thorin pointed out.

"Yes, but the nobles aren't going to stand by while the Blight destroy their lands. They'll work together as if they never killed each other before, and where would these Crows be when the nobles are not conspiring against each other?"

"The warden is wise as well as merciful."

"Oh thank you," he said. To the others: "Gag him."

"We don't know much about assassinations. What if there's another attempt? He can tell us what we should expect," Elissa spoke. Harsh as the truth may be, she knew he was right about the nobles killing each other. No one would have to look far, for her story alone would prove that. But she is not sure about the uniting part. As recent events prove, a calamity such as the Blight produces a slaughter of fellow men. Looming danger produces a fear so great, people do stupid things, such as killing their neighbors.

Tabris nodded. "In the meantime, he can serve a penance by killing darkspawn."

"And you think you can turn him?"

"He can turn on Brosca's greatsword if he doesn't behave," Tabris shrugged.

"Aye, am gonna sharpen this every night."

"I am also very good at polishing swords. I would be happy to do your other sword, my good dwarf. With my tongue. Every night if you wish," said the prisoner.

They all stared at the elf. Since they kept staring, the prisoner added "Free of charge."

Amadeus was the first to recover. "That won't be necessary," he coughed.

"Truly? But you are missing on the greatest pleasures life could give." There was no reaction so he sighed. "But if you insist, I have other skills that you will no doubt find useful. I can pick locks, concoct poisons, make bombs- "

"Enough! He is not coming with us. We can't trust him," Thorin said.

As they tried to haul him off, the elf protested. "Wait! If you still do not trust me, then let me swear an oath of loyalty to you right now."

Thorin signaled them to stop.

The elf fussed a little with his bindings and made himself comfortable before swearing his allegiance. "I hereby pledge my loyalty to you, until such a time as you chose to release me from it. I am your man, without reservation. This I swear."

Thorin looked at him for a moment before saying "Alright. I accept your oath."

Alistair protested. "What? We're taking assassins now?"

"We're full on cast-offs," Amadeus replied with a shrug.

"Ouch."

Thorin brought out his axe and with one swing, cut all the ropes binding the Antivan. "May your god have mercy on you if you break it," he said to the elf, who just smiled weakly. Then the dwarf turned to the three. "Watch him. Don't let him near the food or the drinking supplies."

"Aye. If he think he can take on all of us, he's been eatin nugshit."


	73. Chapter 73

"Ah…a proper bed. I almost thought beds and pillows don't exist," Tabris said as he buried his head on the pillow. It felt good not sleeping on the cold hard ground, for once. He's almost sure his back was realigned, somehow. For the night, the bann graciously gave them the guest rooms in the castle to rest in. As he should, when they spent all night destroying the walking corpses attacking the village. With all the wardens and many mages present, they have at last not lost a single defender to the nightly siege.

"Brr, yer soft, sleepin on somethin like this," Brosca said as he pressed a hand on the pillow in his own bed. The impression sprung back and he shuddered. "It ain't dead!"

"Well, you can hack it to pieces and sleep on the floor. I'm sure the bann won't mind." He turned onto his back and stared at the ceiling. "So we survived this far. We were really lucky we have Thorin leading us," he said idly, then he saw Brosca scowl at him. "What?"

"Ye think ye know him, eh?" the dwarf sneered.

Tabris sat up, suddenly intrigued. "What do you mean?"

Brosca threw away his pillow and prepared himself for bed. "Folks like him, they think they own everything. They keep lookin down their noses fer people like me."

"People like you?"

"Casteless." He pointed at his tattoo. "See this brand? This means I ain't good folk to hang around with. This means people like him gives them right to kick me out the way if they see me," he said, lying on his back."Him talkin about honor and glory and all of ye fawnin all over him. He makes me sick, actin like he done nothin wrong. Is because of him and his folk my mother got no job and is drinkin herself to death and my sister became a noble-hunter so we ain't thrown on out our house and inda street."

"Noble-hunter?"

Brosca looked him in the eye. "Whore. So she can get a brat from a noble and we can have something to eat and stop living like shit."

"I'm sorry, Brosca. I don't know what to say." After a moment, he added "I can't believe Thorin would do something…like that. I can't really imagine him acting that way."

"Oh, he's actin like his shit don't stink but I ain't lettin him forget it."

At that, Neria came running in with her pillow, yelling "Pillow Fight! Pillow Fight!" and hit Tabris with one on the face. Brosca laughed and said "who let a runt like ye in here?." Neria just struck the pillow on his face.

"Sweet Andraste, Neria! You can't just come in our rooms like that," Tabris said, putting his arms up.

"Why not?" she asks, holding up a pillow.

Tabris and Brosca exchanged a glance, unsure whether to tell her it wasn't proper for her to be in men's rooms, then Tabris threw his own pillow at her face. "Because we do that, that's why!"

The pillowfight was in earnest when Amadeus walked by the corridor and a stray pillow hit him. He turned and glared at the three.

"Oh come on, it's just a pillow. Lighten up, we're having fun," Tabris said.

"Aye, with ye scowling like that, you gonna turn up a right old prune."

"I think he looks better that way," Neria said and giggled.

An hour later, the others arrived to rest.

"Tommorrow, we'll be doing the ritual. So here's what we're going to-why is there statues in the corridor?" Thorin asked to the others as he stopped in his tracks. The others craned their neck forwards to see what's stopping him.

Sure enough there were three statues in the middle of the corridor. Tabris was grinning, Neria was frozen in a half-scream and Brosca has his mouth open stupidly, like he was pleading.

They peeked in the open room nearest the statues. Amadeus was reading leisurely in a chair, his staff across his lap.

"Alright, why is Tabris like that?" Thorin asked the mage.

"Paralysis."

"And Brosca?"

"Force Field."

"Can somebody tell me what's going on?" Thorin shouted.

"We were having _fun_ ," Amadeus said, as he laid another glyph on Tabris' feet.

Thorin yelled at him to release them as they're blocking the corridor and some people need to rest too. Amadeus said they will just have to wait for the spells to wear off.

Sure enough, the statues unfroze. Neria was about to hurl a fireball at the other mage but Tabris tackled her and they went down, his hand on her mouth. "We said we're sorry," he shouted at Amadeus, as Neria struggled beneath him.

"You are, now." Amadeus stood up and walked out of the room.

Thorin stayed until both got a nice distance between them, then he turned back the way he came.

"Where are you going?" Elissa called out to his back.

"I need a sodding drink!"

* * *

Neria and Amadeus were curious to see the apostate spy. And so they went to the dungeons, with Tabris and Brosca.

Amadeus took one look at the prisoner and laughed, madly, while Neria cried "Jowan!" and she almost hugged him through the bars.

"What did they do to you?" she asked.

"What they do to all traitors and would be assassins. I wouldn't be surprised if they sent you to finish me off," the mage replied, with sorrow.

"No one's going to finish you off," she promised, while Amadeus was still laughing. Tabris looked puzzled at them both and asked if he was their friend.

"Ah yes. The besotted fool. Nice disappearing act you got back there, leaving your friends to…..hang," Amadeus replied which made Neria glare at him.

Jowan looked up at them with pleading eyes. "Please, you can do anything to me after but I need to ask something. What became of Lily? They didn't hurt her, did they? The thought that she might have paid for my crime…"

"She's in a cell, just like you. Only it's in Aonar and she'll never get out. Should have thought carefully before you went all bloodmage on us," Amadeus answered bluntly.

Jowan flinched as did Tabris, who immediately backed away from the cell and its prisoner.

"What do you think will Gregoire do to her? Shower her with kisses? Hug her 'til she squeals? If there's a standard for stupidity, it'd be you."

"She was your friend too and you let them take her away!" Neria screamed at him.

"She deserves it, for being stupid enough to love one such as him. And she is not my friend."

"Oh, my poor Lily. What have I done? She must hate me now, if she lives," Jowan sobbed.

"Oh, don't you have a thought for poor Neria? After all, she helped you, even if she was only a friend," Amadeus sneered.

Jowan's head jerked up, then he turned to Neria. "What happened to you?"

"She nearly got Tranquil, thanks to you. Now, she's sentenced to fight darkspawn til the day she dies," Amadeus answered before Neria opened her mouth.

"That was that Tinhead Gregoire's doing!" she shouted at him.

"That is also his doing!"He shot back, pointing at Jowan.

Tabris intervened. "Amadeus, that's cruel. What's your problem with him?"

Amadeus turned to him, his face dark with rage and pointed at Jowan. "I got doomed to die by insanity just by getting close to him! We've only met once, but he ruined me," he said, pitilessly, at the figure slumped in the corner of the cell. "So what did you do this time?" he said, in a calmer voice, as Tabris and Brosca restrained Neria from hitting him with a fireball.

"Please, I know how it seems. Poisoning the arl was a terrible thing. But I'm not behind everything else that happened, I swear."

"Is that so? Because the crazy lady upstairs insisted that you were behind all this."

"I know it looks suspicious but I'm not responsible for the creatures and killings in the castle. I was already imprisoned when it began." He told them that after he was uncovered and captured, the arlessa came back here with knights to accuse him of the attacks in retribution to his incarceration and demanded that he undid what he had done. When he still protested of his innocence, they tortured him, then left him here.

"See, he didn't mean to do it to Connor," Neria said to them. Tabris and Brosca did not answer.

"But still, if it weren't for his meddling, this would not have happened," Amadeus replied.

"You don't know that."

"Why did you poison the arl?" Tabris asked the prisoner.

He replied that he made a deal with Loghain, who thought the arl was a threat to Ferelden and wanted him gone. In exchange, Loghain would settle matters with the Circle. "All I wanted was to be able to return. But he abandoned me, didn't he? I never-"

"Oh he did hold up the end of the bargain, don't you worry. Because of him, Uldred went power-mad and became an abomination, taking templars and mages with him." Amadeus told Jowan what happened to Kinloch Hold, the madness, the hysteria and the horrors all of those in it endured. "And you thought they would welcome you back with open arms when you outed yourself as a bloodmage?" he asked Jowan. He finished that if he did want to return, he will have a very frosty reception from the surviving mages.

Tabris had finally had enough. "Amadeus, if you just want to torture people, go away!" 

"He had to know what happened! You think I will let him get away with what he had started?"

"Yeah, but can't you do it without being mean?"

"Truth is always mean."

The prisoner started sobbing again. "Oh, Maker. I've made so many mistakes. I wish I could go back and fix this. I want to make everything right again."

"Don't. You've done enough. You want to make things right? You wanted to come back to the Circle and look what happened. Your wanting something only makes matters worse for other people. If you had only enjoyed your freedom and not come meddling in deals you know nothing about."

"Amadeus, shut up or I will make you," Neria shouted, fire creeping up her arms.

"Do try. I'm sick of you pandering to a pathetic fool like him."

Tabris and Brosca restrained the two from blowing each other to bits, while the prisoner continued sobbing. When they were more or less composed, Jowan started talking again. "I'm sick of running away and hiding from what I've done. I'm going to fix it, anyway I can." He looked at Neria. "We were friends once. I know I don't deserve to be called that, after what I did. If it ever meant anything, please….help me fix this."

"You had the gall to ask for help when all of this was your fault. You not only doomed your friend, doomed your lover and now you had doomed us all, by poisoning the one man who can help us stop the Blight!" Amadeus shouted at him.

"I know you hate me. I'm nothing to you."

"I don't hate you. Not nearly enough. I'm actually glad it was you, for all the people Loghain could have chosen to poison the arl, he chose you, who is too incompetent to finish the job!" At that he turned on his heel and stormed out the dungeons.

When he was gone, Neria clasped Jowan's hands. "I'm not going to let you die, Jowan. I won't let them," she said while Tabris and Brosca exchanged nervous looks.

Someone must have something to love, even if it would only end in their destruction.

* * *

 

Irving found Amadeus at the common room alone. Even outside the tower, the boy was still continuing his studies.

"What?" Amadeus snarled, when he finally sensed he was there. Irving was a little shocked to see that the boy has become so rude since he got out of the tower. He usually greeted him with the greatest deference as an apprentice, and it's jarring to see him now not even have a civil greeting for him. However, he did not become the first enchanter without knowing how to deal with young, sassy mages. And his behavior is expected, he supposed, after the fiasco at the tower.

"If you are not occupied with other matters, I suppose we could talk for a moment?" Irving asked him.

"If you want to talk about the treaty, talk to Thorin. Otherwise, we have nothing to talk about." He closed his book and stood up to move away.

It seems any explanations would have to be short.

"Here." He held out the letter before the boy moved completely out the room. Amadeus looked at him dubiously and took it. "What's this?" he asked, opening the note.

"A letter, from Kirkwall." He watched as the face became still, taking in the contents. "Gregiore doesn't want you to have it, but I think you should know, after all these years." In a much softer tone, he said "I am sorry, for your-"

"Get out."

At any other time, Irving would have been angered by such a demand. However, looking at the unnatural stillness and the toneless voice, he knew that anything he has to say would not be heard. It would be a mercy, then to do as he wished.

It was several minutes after Irving was gone that his strength failed and he staggered to the chair, and sat unmoving. It was in this condition that the others found him when they walked in a long time later.

The others stopped talking when they saw him, sensing that something was incredibly wrong. Neria however, had no natural inhibitions and, as she still resent him for the scene at the dungeons, she could not stop but ask him spitefully what was wrong.

"Did you stub your toe again?"

Neria. He looked at her, the Circle robes, the staff, the faint shimmer around her which can never be anything other than what she is.

He hated her. Hate everything she stands for. If not for that, he wouldn't have been sent away to live without his family.

"My mother's dead," he croaked, standing up and shuffling forward to Neria. "I've got a letter, from Irving, a letter a few years past, telling me, that my mother, my father, everyone important to me, were dead. Dead. Dead, for years. Dead, while I play the obedient, meek mage in that tower. Dead, while I had to let myself be treated like a slave, just so I could see them again. Dead…while I helped you…and your little bloodmage friend," he said, taking hold of her shoulders and shook her, violently.

He got what he wanted when a scream of fury and singing heat threw him to his back. There was a lot of yelling and screaming and someone was saying "Are ye daft? She woulda killed ye" while he felt hands patting down the flames.

Typical. It seems he could only live or die as they wished.


	74. Chapter 74

"You should really choose who you entrust the task of finding this to."

In her room, Morrigan looked up from where she was sitting to find Thorin standing on the doorway. Out of all the companions, he was the only one who bothered to talk to her. Maybe because he had no fear of her, or just being foolhardy.

Right now, he was holding a black book he found at the First Enchanter's office back at the tower.

"You found Flemeth's Grimoire?" she said, without the usual sting in her words as she took it from him. She held it aloft reverently, as if she never expected to see such a thing again.

"You're lucky I found it first. If it was Amadeus, he would have hidden it and pretended he never found it."

"Tis fortuitous that it was you who found it then. I have not imagined he would not do as I have asked. I will be wary of him in the future. You have my thanks."

"You're welcome."

"I will begin the study of this tome immediately."

"What do you want to find in it?"

"Secrets. My mother has many of them and this tome represents the time they were able to get away from her. I do not want to squander the opportunity to learn more than Flemeth wished to know. This should be…interesting," she said, her tone rising at the end.

They were silent for a moment before Thorin asked about shapechanging. She told him the story of Flemeth and the Witches of the Wild, who were believed to devour children through their shapeshifting powers. These tales were rather amusing than true, showing people's preference for the dramatic rather than the factual.

"There are traditions of magic outside of Circle of Magi, despite what those mages had you believe. Some of these are old, passed down through generations. The zealots of the Chantry would uproot all practitioners if they could, but as luck would have it they exist. My mother was one."

"That's good. Some traditions need to be preserved."

"I am surprised you think so. Still, tis a pleasant thing to hear."

"If your mother is a shapechanger, are you one too?

She answered that she is and that it involves magic, which is not possible for him if he was dreaming of becoming one. He laughingly answered he was content with his shape. When turning into an animal, she can perceive the world only through the senses of her form but her life is that of a human.

He thought about it and thanked her for indulging his curiosity. Before he walked away, she asked "Have you an opinion of my abilities then? Am I an unnatural abomination to be put to the torch?"

"If I did, I would have done it already. Still, your skills are useful and I think it is worth preserving."

It was an answer she did not expect. "Oh, you're simply full of surprises, little man, aren't you?" she said, smiling. He smiled back, bade a good day to her, and walked out her room.

Just outside, he saw Tabris running towards him with a troubling look on his face.

"What's wrong? Had the mages finished their preparations?" he asked, when the elf skidded to a stop in front of him, out of breath and pale.

"We have a problem."

* * *

They left him alone to his room, where he stared out the windows in silence. He lost track of time, and he didn't know when Elissa came in and started fussing about.

"You never told me you had a family," Elissa said while holding a food tray.

He gave a harsh laugh. "And what would you do about it? Don't say it. It's not like you can do worse than the templars."

"Maybe this is just a misunderstanding. I can't believe they're cruel enough not to tell you."

"Why would they tell me? They would have nothing to gain by that. To them we are nothing more than hosts for demons. In their eyes, we wish so much to be bloodmages and get possessed if they just let their guard down for even one moment."

"They're people too. They've got families and they would know it would be important to let you know about yours."

"I have no doubt that they know. That is exactly why they did not tell me." He went silent for a while before continuing. "Love, was something they hold above your head and use it like a whip. To control you, to make you obedient to their wishes. They knew what was important to me and they used it. And I…am such a fool….to do what they wanted, when they held nothing…. over me" he finished, in broken sobs.

"Maybe they didn't tell you because they didn't want to hurt you."

He had done. No one can understand them unless they have lived at the tower.

"For years, Elissa? I was old enough to take it. But you see, after all this time, they never bothered to tell me."

She had no answer to that, other than leave him to his grief.

* * *

He's too old for this.

Irving was doubting his decision to give the letter to Amadeus. He would have chosen a more favorable time, but with everything moving so quickly, he was worried that they may never meet again. He came by the letter by accident, when after Jowan's escape, he took both the mages files to know what exactly had they given away and found the opened letter. It was written by the Chantry Mother of Kirkwall, who informed Gregoire about the death of the parents of one of his charges. They died in the hospice the Chantry was running, sick with the plague the cesspool of the underworld naturally produces, and begged a Sister to send a letter to Kinloch and inform their son of their death.

Irving never expected to meet Amadeus again, but he kept it, knowing that someday one of the Wardens would come and he could pass it along. But he did come sooner than expected and at the eleventh hour, when Uldred nearly converted them into his army of abominations.

He listened politely, as Thorin explained that Amadeus would not be able to enter the Fade and so entreated him to take his place, while feeling extremely weary due to fighting abominations to get to Uldred, then resisting his mind control and the hard march to Redcliffe. He genuinely wish to save mages as many as he could but this boy is not like Amadeus, or even Neria. He is not of his own. Worse, he had made a deal with a demon, something that the Circle is strongly against. To agree to free him from the demon would only make them complicit to the atrocities that happened. The Circle must not appear to be helping a renegade mage or appear indulgent of the bad side of magic. If only the boy had been sent to them as soon as his magic was known, none of this would have happened. And so he balked, when Thorin asked him if he is willing to go to the Fade.

"I am grateful to you for the help you did for the Circle, but for this point, I cannot oblige you."

The other mages heard his stance and followed suit.

No point asking Morrigan. She had already said that this was a fool's errand from the very beginning. There was Wynne, but she is a healer, not someone who can kill a a very powerful demon. There was Amadeus, but he is not at the right state to be killing demons. And also, he's a healer, though he said he can do something about the demon. It was because he agreed to do it that they decided to try this, but at the state he is right now, it is not possible. There was Jowan, but he's a poisoner and a bloodmage. Not very good credentials.

The arlessa was, at this time, bawling, crying that if Connor can't be saved, then let her be the one to kill her son. Thorin would have given her his ax himself, but a voice piped up.

"I'll go. I'll kill the demon," Neria said to them.

Thorin eyed her warily. She is very powerful, true, but she is also very unreliable. And as he had been in the Fade himself, he knew this was not something he could trust with someone like Neria.

"Can you do this?"

"Of course I can. I'm harrowed."

"Let us get the ritual underway then," Irving said as he went out with his mages to begin preparations.

Neria held up her hand. "But I want Jowan free after I do this."

Of all the worst things she could have asked, it was this. The arlessa was enraged, protesting that the apostate was the one who started all this madness and he must pay for it. Neria shot back that she can shove that to a…very rude place, but she is not saving her son if Jowan won't be freed. The arlessa wavered, but as she loved her son more than she hated the poisoner, she finally agreed.

"What? You are letting the bloodmage go?" Gregoire said, enraged as well.

"Why are you here?" Neria scowled at him.

The templar turned and looked down at her. "I am doing my duty. I came here to guard the First Enchanter and the other mages." He turned to Thorin. "You cannot let him go. The Chantry will not let his crimes go unpunished."

"I don't care about your sodding Chantry. I want Jowan free."

"You can't ask this, Neria. Ask something else," Thorin said to her as the Knight-Commander continued raging and threatening hellfire on them all.

"I don't want something else. I want my friend free."

Thorin thought for a long moment, then said, "Fine. If the arl agrees."

"He's asleep. He can't agree."

"When he wakes up, I'm going to talk to him to let your friend go."

"You promise?"

"I promise."

"Allright."

Gregoire glared at the dwarf, his nose flaring. "You would let him go? Do you know what-"

"It's up to you what to do after he is freed."

Gregoire opened his mouth to continue raging, thought for a second, then closed his mouth as he got the message, muttering that this isn't proper procedure. Neria crowed happily, finally seeing the templar stumped, for once. She did not know, that the wardens would let Jowan go, but they won't protect him after that.

And so they sent the mage off, Irving advising her not to make any deals. As always, she shrugged off anything Irving had to say, preferring to bask in the well-wishes of her friends and laugh off their fears.

It was a long time before she emerged from her sleep. Gregoire and Irving checked her to see if she had been possessed, and when they were satisfied she had not, they left her to them.

The arlessa rushed out of the room to her son the moment she woke, later sobbing for joy when he recognized her. Then Teagan conferred with the templars about the arl's son, only promising to let him go after the arl awoke or died. And besides, there is the bloodmage to think about. He offered to accommodate them in the castle .

"What happened in there?" Thorin asked Neria.

"Oh, we played tag. The demon made many Connors and I killed them all."

"What about the demon?"

"She's very nasty." Neria wrinkled her nose.

"Did you kill her?"

"Of course I killed her. I'm not stupid," she huffed. Clearly, she didn't want to talk to him, preferring to talk to her friends, so he left her alone.

* * *

_Oh this game._

_He thrilled with anticipation when his mother put her finger to her lips and winked. He knew, he had just to pretend to be very silent and then his mother would come in and he could ask for anything. He wasn't at all worried when his mother closed the door to his room, because he knew this was part of the game. He contented himself to hearing the muffled sounds coming from outside, waiting expectantly for the familiar thread of his mother's footsteps._

_He wasn't sure how long he had waited, when his mother finally opened the door, with his father behind him. She smiled as he whooped and hugged her, craning up to kiss her cheek. "What does my very good boy want?" she asked as she hugged him. He said his favorite treat._

_"This again?" she said, with mock exasperation. He nodded. She smiled and handed the treat to him. He was busy enjoying his reward so he didn't notice when his mother started crying softly._

_His father held out a hand to her shoulder. She sniffed, then turned to look at him. "He's so very young. Can't we-"_

_"No, Revka. We've put it for too long. We had to send him away now, or it'll be too late."_

_She burst into another fit of crying. "He's my son, my only son."_

_"We've talked about this, Revka. He can't stay with us. Sooner or later, the templars will find him and take him away and we-all of us, will be ruined."_

_"You don't care for him. If you did, you wouldn't do this."_

_"You think this isn't hard for me? He's my son too, but I'd rather not see him again than let him end up in that tower. I know what they do to mages there who are not good enough, alright? " His tone softened. "Let him go, Revka. You know it is the right thing to do, for him."_

_"But can't we go with him now?"_

_His father knelt beside them and put his arm around to embrace them. He said, softly, "You know we can't just slip away. Think about your Father. You know what they'll do to him, to all your relatives, if they found out about our son. They'll be ruined. No one would want to be their friend. No one would want to marry your cousins. The people here would always see our son as a mark against your family."_

_She sobbed and pulled him closer. He looked up, perplexed. He doesn't want to see his mother sad, so he raised a crumby hand and attempted to wipe her tears away. She jerked, saw what he was doing, then she smiled, though she was still crying._

_"I'll go, pack his things," she said finally, wiping her eyes, "then. I-"_

Something crashed and he woke up from his dream. He turned around to see the source of the noise, and found Tabris near the side table, one hand holding a tray, with an overturned tray and plates at his feet. The uneaten food pooled around his feet, the cold soup spreading, a wet spot on the carpet.

"I'm sorry. I was just putting this, here. Don't worry, I'll clean this up," Tabris said as he placed the tray on the table and looked around for a rag.

He had a lot to be sorry for. The dream was fading away fast, and Amadeus found he couldn't really describe what his mother was wearing, or what his father looked like. It seemed then, that he would be left with nothing, not even a memory, to remember them by.

Tabris finally found a spare cloth and cleaned up the mess. When he was done, he stood awkwardly for a moment, then he thought better and seated himself opposite him.

A very long silence ensued.

"Aren't you hungry?" Tabris finally asked.

"No." Amadeus tried to think hard, willing himself to remember the dream.

There was another awkward silence before the elf asked again. "Do you want to talk about it?"

"Why? What would you know about it?" he snarled. He was angry. He couldn't hold on to the memories, and the elf was making himself a target for his frustration.

Tabris flinched at his tone, but stayed seated. "My mother died too, years ago," he said, softly.

Amadeus stayed silent, because he knew he couldn't say he was sorry for him with sincerity. Tabris though didn't need his reply to continue.

"She was…uhm. She was beautiful. Well, all mothers are beautiful, I suppose." He talked about his mother, a feisty, brave woman who always stood up for elf rights against humans. She was hot-tempered, but she was warm-hearted, helping anyone in need. He told him that one day, the arl decided to impose a curfew on them to reduce criminality as he said, but her mother together with other elves banded together to protest that most of them had to work into the night just to feed their families. The arl didn't like that and sent the guards to take care of them, by starting with the leaders. They ran a sword through her and said later that they had to do it as the elves became rowdy. She died after a few days, as his father and cousins were not able to afford a healer.

At first, he didn't take her death well. He joined a local thug group against the wishes of his family, so intent was he on causing trouble to humans as much as possible for what they did to his mother. Mugging, burglary, extortion. You name it, he'd done it. Only to humans though. Murder? He was saving it for the arl.

Until one job. The guards were tipped off by someone from the inside and had prepared an ambush. It was bloody, and he was wounded mortally, but he escaped unlike so many of his companions. He found out later that he had crawled bleeding on the chantry steps, that his father and cousins came to take him from the chantry sister who found him and decided not to turn him over to the guards. He thought he was going to die, and as he heard his father and his cousins crying for him, he thought he saw his mother saying she didn't raise a stupid son, and if he wants to honor her memory, he must live on. And so he did, wielding her blades to continue her legacy.

"They say time heals everything. I've found that it does, though not immediately and I wish it would for you too, whenever that may be." He waited for a reply but when there's still nothing, he continued "I know it's difficult for you right now, but I want you to remember, you don't have to go through with this alone."

Amadeus found that the memories had truly disappeared, but the pain of their loss would always stay with him. It seems, then, this is all he will ever have of them, as proof that he was loved once, and that should be enough.


	75. Chapter 75

While they wait for the others to arrive at the common room, Thorin went to talk to Mahariel. She was standing in a corner of the window, watching the people down below.

"You came back," Thorin said to her.

"And so I did."

"What changed your mind?"

She tunred back to looking out the window. "When I first arrived in Ostagar, I thought I was sure of my place in this world. The keepers are wise and we Dalish had suffered a long injustice. There was nothing from the outside that was good and so when I left my clan, I thought I have lost everything. But, traveling with you, I saw that bravery, kindness, loyalty and love was present in all people, even in humans, the ones I hated the most. And that violence has only resulted to more injustice. I saw that the Dalish were fallible too, and capable of doing wrong. What the humans did to us, we pay it back to them, even if it involved the innocent, and so did they until everything that is good is destroyed. Hatred had grown in our souls, twisting it, until we became nothing more than it. It has not made us better and it has not made us aspire to better things. I…" She dropped her head. "I still have much to learn. There is still so many things I do not to know. But I know this: that you were as wise as any keeper. You said the humans were not as bad as I thought, and you were right. You said I could teach them to respect my people, and you were right. The humans I have met has shown mercy to the one who wronged them, and I believe the Dalish can do the same."

Thorin did not know what to make of this. What he said at that time seemed common sense to him and not what she said. But he knew that somewhere within her speech, there were words that meant she will stay.

"So, no murdering our human companions, then."

"None, if I can help it, although you must allow me to berate them every now and then if they do wrong."

"Just don't overdo it. But I agree, everyone needs to be disciplined sometimes."

She smiled, a real smile this time. "I am glad you agree with me, Thorin."

* * *

Mahariel waited with apprehension after she gave an apology to them for her rude behavior a few days past and gave a promise not to be so again in the future. She gave no excuses, as she knew it had come from her own prejudice.

"Oh, how the mighty have crumbled," Alistair said playfully. "What do you know, wishes do come true sometimes. We're all Wardens here. Consider it forgotten."

"Well, at least we're over it now," Tabris said stiffly.

Elissa was much more gracious and replied that her apology was accepted. She also apologized for being insensitive to her, as she knew then now that the Dalish do not like to be referred to as servants. Mahariel nodded and replied that it is no matter.

Thorin called them to order and told them that though they may have saved Redcliffe, there is still the problem with the sleeping Arl. The bann refused to uphold the treaty without his brother's consent. And so someone must go to Denerim. They had already agreed that only those Loghain hadn't seen should go. Lelianna was chosen to go as well as Morrigan and Wynne. Zevran was still under suspicion and Thorin wouldn't risk him going back to Loghain. Sten was too conspicuous, wath with his height and Qunari features.

However, the witch would not stand being ordered about by the two. Likewise the two for her. They were bickering so heatedly, that without a warden to lead them, they'd kill each other before they even reached Denerim. And so a warden must go and risk being captured by Loghain.

"That's difficult. He will recognize us. Denerim would be full of his spies," Tabris commented. They asked the assassin for confirmation and he replied that other Crows will be there to finish the job. "So a suicide mission?"

"Maybe. If you appeared as yourself."

The group turned around to find Amadeus, standing in the doorway, like a wraith. His hair was lank and overgrown, and his face gaunt. He had thinned in a matter of days.

"Amadeus? You're up?" Thorin asked him in surprise.

"Well, I'm not rolling, am I?"

"You're...back" Tabris said..

"Really? Did I go somewhere else?"

"I mean you're really back. With the….grumpiness."

"Yes, I'm grumpy. Getting birthed does that to you."

"No it doesn't," Elissa said.

He turned to her. "Oh, my mistake. You were born laughing, ready to CONQUER THE WORLD" he said, shaking his fists.

Well, he's not all there but at least he's back to being mean.

"Help yourself to the food," Thorin said as he plushed a platter of bread covered in chocolate and nuts to him. He waited as the mage sat down and had taken bites.

"I thought you would be needing more time with all…that."

"I don't."

"Are you sure you're up to this? Because-"

"Of course I am. High willpower, remember?" he said, tapping his head. Thorin looked at the person who had gone through horrors and horrors of mad templars and mad mages and sodding what else, while alone at the worst of it. He had completed the mission, despite being offered an easier alternative.

"So what were you saying earlier?"

"I said Loghain could only capture one of us if he knows what he was looking for. But he wouldn't be looking out for…a dog perhaps?"

"We're sending Ser Barker?" Neria asked, scornful.

"We're sending  _me_. I can turn into a dog."

Well, he looks the part, with the shaggy hair and generally unkept appearance. The group went silent as they remembered that he really was taught by the swamp witch.

It's not an ideal party, but it's the best they have.

"Alright, fine. Prepare what you need. You'll leave tomorrow. And while they go to Denerim, some of you goes to Orzammar. Brosca, you're going."

"What's wrong? Yer scared to go back?"

"Now's not really the time to give me attitude, Brosca."

"Ain't givin nothin. We been fightin together for a long time, not knowin our boss is keepin somethin from us."

Thorin thought he was right. Unpleasant may be the telling for him, keeping silent about his past won't foster any trust between him and them. "You have a point." He took a deep breath and revealed to them that he was formerly a prince of Orzammar until his brother's machinations have led him to be falsely accused of killing his brother and exiling him to the Deep Roads, where Duncan found him. "If I haven't revealed this earlier, I'm sorry. I'm still dealing with...everything that had happened and I thought it wouldn't matter. Not with the Archedemon threatening the end of the world." 

 They were too shocked to pay attention to his apology. "Aeducan? The Aeducans? The current ruling house in Orzammar?" Elissa asked, eyes wide as she looked at Thorin.

"What? So you are what a king?" Tabris asked.

"A soddin prince, that's what."

"Not anymore," Thorin said bitterly.

Tabris shot out of his spot. "Sweet Andraste, don't do this to me or I'll seriously believe nobles sprout from the ground!"

"Hmm, now that you said it, I kind of imagining that like potatoes," Alistair said.

"Well, Thorin looks like a potato. He's also colored like one," Neria commented.

"And also coming from the ground. Lead on, Commander Potato." Tabris finished.

 "Can't you go back? Clear your name?" Elissa asked. 

Thorin explained that it would take a lot of time to repeal the Assembly's decision, time they don't have at the moment.

"So you accept that without protest? That is unexpected," Morrigan said coldly.

"There's no point in appealing, because I've been on the surface."

"What's that got to do with it?" Neria asked him. He explained that when a dwarf goes to the surface, he loses his Stone sense. That is, he became someone not dwarf.

"What? You still look like a dwarf to me. Or what I expect dwarves to be. Is unsurfaced dwarves different?" Tabris asked.

"It's not about appearances. It's being on the surface. It's...tradition," Thorin answered. It would take a lot of time to explain to them the intricacies of dwarven society, time that they should spent restoring their strength.

"That sounds stupid," Neria frowned.

"Well, without it, we're just…short people with beards, I suppose."

The others fell silent, because they couldn't really grasp that idea. It's not like surface dwarves they encountered are talkative about the past they left behind.

"Shouldn't you be going since you're their prince?" Alistair asked. His question shook Elissa out of her reverie and she shot him a look, which he repaid by a minute shake of the head.

"My presence there would only make it harder to convince Orzammar to lend aid. They are not very welcoming to surface dwarves, least of all to someone believed to have murdered the heir to the throne."

"But you were innocent," Elissa protested.

"Still, I'm here and I'm supposed to be dead. They won't take kindly to someone who had defied punishment."

"Aye, nobles are stubborn fools." Brosca said, as he remembered the Proving.

Thorin looked at Brosca at the insult to his caste, but let it go for this time. But he made a note to remind him to talk with Brosca regarding his attitude. "So he goes. He knows how Orzammar works. Who's going with him?"

"Why can't we all go to Orzammar?" Neria asked

"Loghain's still out hunting for us. With this, we all wouldn't be taken in one swoop if he managed to find us."

Brosca wanted to take Neria and Tabris but Thorin put his foot down. With the three of them, they might be bringing back more headaches for him. And looking from their recent adventures, he expects trouble. So Mahariel can't go, as her skills won't be useful underground. So it was Elissa, Sten and Zevran. Alistair wanted to wait for the Denerim group.

Meanwhile, the others would stay behind and help rebuild the village or try to earn some money for their expeditions. They couldn't ask the arlessa or the bann for a loan, not with the rebuilding at Redcliffe. They knew they couldn't ask for more, with them being housed and fed already. 

* * *

After the meeting, Amadeus went to his room to prepare for the journey. Thorin followed after him. "We need to talk," the dwarf said when they were alone. The others were easy enough to talk to. But not Amadeus.

"Are you sure you're alright?" he asked the mage.

"Do I need to repeat myself?" Amadeus asked without turning to face him, and started putting his things in his pack.

"I know these past few days has been hard on you-"

"The point, Thorin?"

"I need to know if I can trust you. You were just recovering."

"You don't need to baby me. I am a healer. I am perfectly capable of fixing myself. By the time we get to Denerim, I will have made myself competent enough to do the job."

"Alright, then. But you do have a habit of running rodshod over your companions."

"You were alluding to what happened at the Tower, were you?" The mage stopped his packing and turned towards him. "I solemnly swear that I will not harm nor insult even a hair on their pretty heads."

"You're not being serious."

"Even so, I meant it."

Thorin just stared at him.

"Are you doubting me? Don't. I get the job done, whatever the cost."

"Look I know this is hard for you-"

"Let's make a deal. I'll follow you wherever you want to go but after this, after we slay the Archdemon, you let me go."

"Let you go?"

"Leave the Wardens. Never come after me."

Thorin crossed his arms. "What makes you think you can leave just like that?"

"I never want to be a Warden. I was forced into being one and still, I don not wish to spend my life as one. Killing the archdemon and giving up a portion of my life is payment enough for my freedom, don't you think? Or do you intend to keep me here against my will?"

Thorin did not answer him right back. "This is connected to the templars, isn't it?"he asked softly.

"Maybe. They have ruled my life until there is nothing left but ruin. I am trying to save what little I have and I cannot do that killing darkspawn."

"You could make friends here. You don't have to be alone."

"True. But I cannot be content knowing that I only live by being buried underground, out of sight, fighting for people who hate my very existence. If I must fight, then it would be for my right to live as anyone else."

Thorin looked at him, seeing a person so determined even after suffering a great personal loss. "Alright, if that's what you want. Is there anything else I can do for you?"

"No."

Thorin nodded and was about to go, when Amadeus asked him to stop.

"Just...do what you always do."

Thorin just looked silently at the mage, his head bowed, his face hidden, refusing to meet his eyes. "Alright. Well, I'll see you downstairs."

* * *

the next morning, the Orzammar group left Redcliffe. They were somewhere over the shores of Lake Calenhad when they heard a cry of pain. Turning around, they saw Zevran doubled over.

"Wardens! If you could stop, for a moment," the elf gasped. He was on his knees, massaging his calf.

"What now?" Brosca said, frowning.

Elissa came closer to the elf. "Are you hurt?"

"No. But I cannot walk like this." He continued massaging his calf. "Do you always do this sort of walking at such a pace?"

"We only did recently. We never had to before."

"Ah. If it's too much to ask, could you at least, walk slower?"

"Walk slower?" Brosca shook his head. "We ain't got an assassin, we gotta soddin princess."

"Brosca, don't be mean. He's not a warden like us. He can't walk for hours without rest."

"Yea, but what about him? He ain't no Warden and he still walkin with us." The dwarf pointed at Sten, who stayed silent as usual.

"Yes, but he's seven feet tall and a soldier. He's used to a brisk march. Zevran's not, are you?" she asked Zthe elf.

"You are right. Sad to say, I grew up in the city. When I have to go to a far place, I ride horses or in a carriage," he said, sensing that he might have a patron in her.

The dwarf held up his hands. "I ain't carryin him."

"Then we should camp here."

So it wasn't difficult to find himself laid up in a tent with a pretty girl attending him.

"I have some poultice here that might help." Elissa said as she searched her pack. She found one and handed a pot to the elf.

"Thank you." he said as he took the jar from her hands. He opened it and applied some of the ointment on his aching feet.

She was smiling a little. "It was also as bad as that when we fled from Ostagar to Lothering. Our feet were all blistered and sore. But we had a healer then. I'm so sorry for you."

"Ah, don't feel too sorry for me. Some people just have bad luck, no?"

They fell silent for a moment, watching his hand rub on the aching calf.

"Do you want some help on the other foot?"

"Oh, I would be very grateful." He handed her the jar. She got some of it and started rubbing on his foot.

It is actually not bad joining the Wardens. He didn't have to even give insincere compliments to make a pretty girl take care of him. He only had to have cramps. Not that he'd voice that aloud. He knows too well that a girl like her will stop doing it if he said a word.

"I want to ask you about something," she said, not looking up from her task.

"Oh? This should be good. Go ahead."

"You're from Antiva?"

"Oh? You wish to go to Antiva, do you?" He chuckled. " The only way to appreciate it would be to go there."

"What's it like?"

"It is a warm place, not cold and harsh like this Ferelden. In Antiva, it rains often but the flowers are in bloom. Or so the saying goes."

"It sounds wonderful. If you don't hear about the assassins."

"Every land has its assassins. Some are simply open about their business than others." He stopped to enjoy the wonderful sensation of her thumb moving on his instep. "I hail from the glorious Antiva City, home to the royal palace. It is a glittering gem amidst the sand, my Antiva City."

She smiled at the unreserved love of his homeland.

"Do you come from someplace comparable?" he asked her.

"I come from Highever. Just as cold and harsh as the rest of Ferelden. The flowers bloom only for a season, but it makes you appreciate more their beauty, because it is fleeting." She had read that somewhere and though she had not wits enough to make her own remarks, she is smart enough to use someone else's.

"It is beautiful, then, in its own way." He grew wistful. "Hmm. You know what is most odd? We speak of my homeland, and for all its wine and dark-haired beauties, and the lillo flutes of the minstrels…I miss leather the most."

She stopped and looked at him. It now entered her mind that he wasn't what he seemed and this whole scene isn't looking very innocent right now.

"Is that a saying for-?"

Zevran laughed. "It well as may be! But not this once, no. I mean the smell. For years I lived in a tiny apartment near Antiva City leather-making district, in a building where the Crows stored their youngest recruits. Packed in like crates." He stopped for a moment, wishing he shut up about the leather because she placed his foot gently back down and put her hands primly on her lap. But the deed was done and this spiel is as good as any other so he continued. "I grew accustomed to the stench, even though the humans complianed of it constantly. To this day, the smell of fresh leather is what reminds me of home more than anything else."

"You sound like you've been away from home forever," she said it as if it was from her experience.

"Oh, not so long, I know. It is my first time away from Antiva, however, and the thought of never returning makes me think of it constantly." He shrugged. "Before I left, I was tempted to what little coin I possessed on leather boots I spotted in the store window. Finest Antivan leather, perfect craftmanship…." He shook his head. "Ah. I was a fool to leave them. I thought Ah Zevran, you can buy them when you return as a job well done!" He looked at her, his eyes rueful. "More fool that I, no?"

"Your home is still there, Zevran." She said softly.

"True and it's a comforting thought. One simply knows what it is to come next. How could I have suspected I would be helped by a beautiful, Grey Warden after I was defeated? I could not."

"Beautiful?"

"Hm…that was a poor choice of words, true though it is. Do you object?"

"No. Mother…always say to speak only the truth."

He laughed. "I am glad to hear it. Now, if it's all the same to you, I would prefer not to speak of Antiva. It makes me wistful and-"

Brosca opened the tent flap and said "Gotta eat, now."

"-hungry for a proper meal," he finished.

"Oh, you can't get up yet. I'll go take food to you." She stood up but Brosca got hold of her arm.

"Nah, imma get it for him. Ye feed the dog. He's gettin rowdy." Brosca did not miss the glint of the ointment on her hands and on the elf's exposed legs.

"Alright. If you say so." She went out.

Brosca waited until she was out of earshot then turned to the elf, his arms crossed. "Ye sneaky elf."

"What did I do now?"

"I know what yer doin."

"I'm afraid I don't know what you're talking about. I have lain here, not moving, as you see."

"Not movin eh? Ye donna need movin much with what yer doin with her."

"I am only expressing my gratitude for the excellent care she has given me."

"Nugshit. I hava sister. And I see turds like ye all the time." He uncrossed his arms. "If yer not up in yer feet by mornin, imma tie ye up and drag ye."

* * *

Next morning, Elissa hurried to the water's edge as soon as the sun was up, to look at her reflection.

Oh, Maker, she looks like a hag. Her hair, which was once glossy and silky, resembled a bird's nest perched atop her head. Her lips, once so soft and pink, was pale and cracked. Her skin, once so smooth and fair, was chapped with the cold wind and turned brown. And worst of all, she has freckles. Freckles! Tiny spots of brown across her nose, bold as you please.

She put her head on her hands and moaned for the loss of her dignity. No wonder Arl Teagan had a hard time recognizing her for she looks so different from the belle she was once. As she remembered last night when Zevran said she was beautiful, she groaned again in mortification. Zevran was mocking her, she was sure of it. Why, no one will call her beautiful if she looks like she's been raised by hurlocks. She stopped groaning eventually, vowing that everyone will see her and call her beautiful as she deserved.

Every night hereafter, she surprised her companions by going to bed with mud on her face and honey on her lips and woke them up with her screaming, flapping her hands on her face, juice running on the sides of her nose and from her eyes.

But at least, her looks have never been better.


	76. Chapter 76

“We’re splitting up,” Thorin announced one day at camp. He flicked over some papers which were lately pinned on a Chantry board. “There's a lot of people here needing help and we'll cover more ground if we split up. Tabris, Neria, you’re with me. Mahariel, Alistair, You’re doing this together,” the dwarf said as he handed a paper to Alistair.

When later, Alistair and Mahariel were preparing far from them, Tabris went to speak with Thorin privately.

“I don’t know if you know this already,” the elf began, “but you do know they hate each other right?”

“Didn’t they made up? I thought Mahariel was sorry about how she was treating people lately.”

“Yes, but it’s Mahariel we’re talking about. You know, the one with the bow and the super-trigger-finger?”

“Nonsense. She’s not going to shoot Alistair.”

“Are you sure about that?”

“Yes. I trust her because she swore to me she wouldn’t. Or if she would, she’d ask me first.”

When Tabris still looked concerned, he sighed. “If you’re really worried, you can switch with Alistair.”

The elf perked up quickly. “I was overreacting! I realized that now. No way she’s hurting Alistair. Nah-uh. I’m so stupid, doubting my own companions.but I’m not anymore. I really really trust my companions now,” he said, too cheerfully.

“Uh-huh,” Thorin said, crossing his arms and looking at the elf with a brow raised.

“Yes, really! By the way, it really feels too hot today, isn’t it? Funny how the weather works on the mind. It makes you think too much for your own good. Anyway, what’s for lunch? I’m starving.”

And so it was that they parted ways for the moment, Thorin and the elves going to retrieve a wagon, while Mahariel and Alistair were off.

They found the conscripts on a battlefield but it was too late to save them. They had all been killed and only a diary was left to give back to their employer. Wolves had been feeding on their bodies when they arrived so they had driven them off. They could not go back to Redcliffe before sunset, so they were forced to camp. As usual, she set off to hunt for their dinner and fill their waterskins, while Alistair set up their tents. Luckily, she had caught a fowl and had dug up some roots to go with it. Since they both know Alistair isn’t good with cooking, she had to cook it too. 

She was watching the pot boil when she noticed Alistair looking puzzled at the shirt in his hands. “What’s wrong?” she asked him.

“My shirt has a hole in it.”

“Then mend it.”

Alistair frowned, thinking for a moment. Then he looked up at her. “Can you mend it?” he asked her.

She stared at him. “Can you not you mend your own clothes? Why must I do it?”

“Sometimes I pick up too much fabric and it ends up all puckered and the entire garment hangs wrong afterward. And you're... you know, a girl. Girls do that sort of thing, don't they? Sewing clothes and what not,” he said, remembering Elissa who is always found sewing something at camp. But she just stared silently at him so he added “You don't want me to have to fight darkspawn in a shirt with a hole, do you? It might get bigger. I might catch a cold.”

She did not endure the taint, accept her separation from her clan and survive Ostagar only to play nursemaid to someone.

“How is it that you are a grown man and yet know as much as a child?” she hissed.  “Where are your kin, your clan, that they would allow you to grow up without guidance and the skills to survive on your own?” 

“Nevermind. I’ll think I-“

“Stay right there,” she commanded, walking off to her tent. He saw her rummage around until she came back with her sewing kit. “You will learn to sew properly this night. Do it properly, or I will pull the stitches out and make you do it again.”

* * *

They encountered bandits on their way and dispatched them. But not without one of them giving Alistair a nasty cut on his hand. He bandaged it himself and continued on their way when it had had fallen loose and he tried to re-wrap it, not noticing her coming suddenly behind him. He finished wrapping it, then saw her watching him.  He froze as she looked over the clumsily made bandages, frowning.

“Remove it,” she said shortly.

“What? But I’ll bleed to death.”

“Nevertheless, you must do it or it will not set properly.”

He sighed but nevertheless did as she said. When he was finished, she looked at it and said “It is just as bad as the last.” She then removed it herself. “I will wrap it again and you must watch.”

“Alright, have it your way,” he answered, exasperated. “But why do I have to watch? I already know how to do it.”

“Not enough to do this properly. It might not be you injured next time and they might need you to do this right. Everyone should be able to fend for themselves and not depend on others for too much.”

“You meant I’m a deadweight. Yes, there it is,” he said. Criticism 1.

The elf stopped rolling the strip over and said slowly. “Dead…weight. You are alive. You are not this…deadweight.”

“That one went totally over your head,” he muttered.

“What? What has gone over my head?” she said looking around.

“Uh, nothing.”

The elf stopped looking around to look at him to glare. “You are mocking me.”

“Mocking you? No, my dear lady. Perish the thought.” He doubted if she could count as a lady.

She narrowed her eyes at him for a moment, then continued wrapping his arm. Then after a pause, she said “Have you not been taught this by your mamae?

“Mamae?”

“Mother.”

“Oh, that. You see, I was raised by dogs. Giant slobbering dogs from the Anderfels. A whole pack of them.” He definitely doesn’t want to talk about his mother. Not to her, anyway.

She was looking at him again. “You are raised….by dogs. Then that is why you smell like one.” Criticism 2.

“Well, it wasn’t when I was eight that I discovered you didn’t have to lick yourself clean. Old habits die hard, you know,” he said, sarcastically.

 “Old habits do not “die hard”. They are not living things that can die.” Now she’s correcting him on language. Criticism 3.

“So you must have human parents before these….dogs raised you? Where were they?” she continued, no trace of humor in her voice.

Maker’s breath! She actually believes he’s raised by dogs.

“I was…joking with the dogs. Actually, it was Arl Eamon who raised me. I’m a …bastard, and my mother was a serving girl in Redcliffe who died when I was very young,” he rambled. When she look at him with a steady gaze, he could not stop himself.  “Arl Eamon wasn’t my father, as you know, but he took me in anyhow and put a roof over my head. He was good to me and he didn’t have to be. I respect the man and I don’t blame him anymore for sending me to the chantry once I was old enough.”

“Why had he sent you away if he had taken you in?”

“He, uh married a young woman from Orlais. The new arlessa resented the rumors which pegged me as his bastard. They weren’t true, but of course they existed. The arl didn’t care, but she did. So off I was packed off the nearest monastery when I was ten. The arlessa made sure the castle wasn’t a home to me by this point. She…..despised me.”

“This woman must be detestable as to do something that awful to a child.”

He must be dreaming. Never did he thought she would be on his side. “No. She was…she just felt threatened by my presence. I can see that now. I can’t blame her. She wonders if the rumors are true herself, I bet. I remember I had an amulet with Andraste’s holy symbol on it. The only one I have of my mother. I was furious at being sent away I threw it off and it shattered. Stupid, stupid thing to do. The arl came by the monastery a few times to see how I was but I was stubborn. I hated it and blame him for everything and eventually he stopped coming. 

“You were young. Do not blame yourself.” Did he hit his head? Why was she being nice to him all of the sudden?

“And raised by dogs. Or I might as well I have been, the way I acted. But maybe all bastards are like that, I don’t know.”

“They do not.”

“You wouldn’t know about it,” he said, slipping up.

She fell silent, then said “I too was raised by someone not of my blood. My father was a keeper of another clan, and my mother was a huntress. Their clans did not approve of the match but still they met in secret.”

“Oh.”

“Until bandits, humans, had caught them one night. My mother escaped, but my father did not survive. She did, but she did not survive long after I was born. The one who raised me, Ashalle, said she died from grief.”

“I’m…sorry.”

“But still, even if you were not fortunate enough to have guardians to raise you with care, your forgiveness of them is…commendable. It shows a generosity of spirit that is not often found.”

His mouth fell open. Did she just compliment him? “Thank you, I think,” he said, unsure, still expecting her to, maybe, bite him?

She made the last knot and finished. Then, she held out her arm and said “Pretend I have the same injury. Now, do the same for me,” she instructed, while holding out to him a strip of bandage. But because he had not been watching, he made a mess of it. She inspected it, then looked at him, all trace of warmth in her eyes gone.

He started sweating a little.

* * *

They were traveling all around the countryside, evacuating people while fighting darkspawn or bandits. Privately, there was resentment mounting on both sides but they knew enough not to quarrel publicly. She stayed back and let him deal with the people, knowing now that he would be trusted better than her. She didn’t speak up about this unfair treatment, as it gave her an opportunity to observe him closely.

Now that the fog of prejudice has been lifted from her eyes, Mahariel could see that Alistair was better than she had first thought him to be. She saw that he was polite and kind to the people they helped, be they humans, elves or dwarves. And there was no malice that she could see in him. But all these talents were spoiled by his whining, childishness and an extreme docility that is strange in a man grown.

Before she met Zathrian, she would have let him be. His well-being was not her responsibility. Why would she care about a human?

But she met him and remembered she is a grey warden now, same as Alistair. And a good member of a clan will never let another founder in ineptitude.

“You do not know your own mind. You continually stop the others to ask for their guidance. This will not do. Everyone has a job to do, including you and it cannot be done like this,” she said one day, when he asked what to do next.

“Well, Little Miss Grumpy Warden rears her head once again. I didn’t mean to ask you where to go. Sorry about it. Won’t happen again. I’ll just shut up and follow you around where you decide to go. Zip.”

She just stared silently at him before continuing. “No. I do not want you to follow me around as if you have no mind of your own. You must be able to stand on your feet without having to depend on others. A tent will not stand with one flimsy stick.  You cannot hope to support others, if you cannot support yourself.”

“Yes, I know. I’m a liability. So are you done?” he said, still sulking.

She handed back his work, her face like stone. “No one is to be left behind. We move as one.”

She made him cook one day and ask what he made. She took one bite and glared. “This is fit only for pigs.”

“I know, right? I’m going to make a fortune selling that to hog farmers. Their pigs are going to love me.”

She narrowed her eys, unsure of how to answer that. A lot of what he says are so ridiculous to be believed. “You are cooking for people, not pigs,” she reminded him. “You are overcooking it and thus wasting it. It is not worth much like this; you lose everything that is nourishing about it.”

“Well, since you know better, why don’t you do it, O Great Cook of the Dalish?”

“No. You must learn how to do even with out me. Do you expect that other people will always cook for you?” So saying, she taught him, with recipes he didn’t even know existed until he could cook something she would eat.

She continued testing his meekness to see if there was an ounce of defiance still in him, until he finally snapped.

“Alright, I’m done,” he said, walking away from her after he was given what he thought was a crazy task only to be scolded for it.

“Alistair, wait-”

“Don’t worry, I’ll come back. Don’t want to return to the others without returning you. But Maker, I just can’t stand being with you right now.”

He turned away then he realized why she called him to wait.

A humongous spider dropped down on him and stung him. He drew his sword and slashed its belly, where its entrails exploded over him. He heard the twang of a bow and knew they were surrounded by its kin.

After killing them all, she turned towards him. “Are you hurt?” she asked, surprising him. But he remembered their quarrel and scowled.

“I’m fine. Don’t worry, it’s not like you care very much.”

“Your wound is poisoned,” she said, looking at the bite.

“It’s fine. I’ll apply some poultice and I’ll be fine.”

“No, you will not. The poultice is not enough for the poison. She stepped forward and before he could react, removed his gauntlet and inspected the wound, ignoring his protest. She tore a strip of cloth and bound the arm above the wound and bled the wound out.

“You don’t have to do that,” he said, alarmed, and tried to sit up but she held him back down. She continued cleaning it, covering it. “Stay right there,” she ordered and rummaged around her pack. She found a couple of herbs and mashed them together, applied it to his wound. “Hold this still,” she said, taking his hand to press it to his wound. “It will draw out the poison. Keep your arm down while I make the antidote.”

She build a fire, brought out the pot to boil and started adding herbs to it.

“Why are you doing this? You hate me, right?”

“I do not hate you. If I did not care about you, I would have let you die.”

For some reason he was looking at her oddly. “Well, that's comforting. You really care…for me?”

“Of course. I wish to see you do well.”

That brought him up short. “But…you keep screaming at me. You keep saying I’m not good enough.”

“You are.”

He scowled and was about to open his mouth.

“-but you could be better. You are a good man, better than I had expected, but your gifts are useless with all this things weighing you down. You could have been our leader, but instead you gave way.”

“I’ve told you, I don’t want to be a leader.”

“If all we do is run away from things we don’t want to, then what can we accomplish? You will never be tested and so you will never know how strong you are or what you are capable of doing. Sooner or later, you will be faced with a decision that you cannot run away from, a decision only you can make.” 

“Oh no, I can’t be doing that. There are other people better than me and they’d be better at doing all this big…stuff.” The thought of being in command and making a decision terrified him, and others making it for him was a godsend.

“Your life is as important as theirs. You have to start making decisions for yourself and take responsibility of your own life, because you and not they, will be the one to live by it.”

It did nothing to comfort him. But as usual, he conceded to her, by habit rather than belief. “I-you’re right. I’ll try not to..disappoint you too.”

 _This is hopeless_ , she thought. She tied up the bandage and stood up. “There. Let it heal first before using your arm. Do not do something heavy unless absolutely necessary,” she said and left.

After that, she did not say a word. She stopped trying to teach him and if he asked, she just said to do as he wished. He was relieved at first, then he was anxious, for she was silent for days. He never could tell what she is thinking nor feeling. 

Soon, he noticed she was flagging. They had to stop, for she came down with a violent fever afterwards. He collected the herbs and brewed a medicine as per her instructions. She drank the medicine he made and grimaced, which made him remember all their cooking lessons and made him wince inwardly. She waved off his concerns, telling him that she only need to rest for a while.

 With time on his hands, he fell to reflecting on the past few days and his thoughts naturally fell on the invalid. He was conflicted about what he feel towards Mahariel, if he like her or not, but she is a warden like him, and even if he may not like her personally, he had to care for her.

He found he knew little about her. She never really talk about much-because she was always doing something. He realized he didn’t knew about her, because they were so caught up with their own problems, they never noticed how she ensured their camp was running smoothly, and provided what they need before they even asked for it. She never joined their conversations, because she was scouting ahead for enemies. While he was moping about Duncan, she was busy keeping them alive. She never asked for thanks or help and never complained and all he did was complain about her.

The next morning, he found her packing up her tent. After exchanging good mornings and eaten breakfast, she immediately resumed packing up her things.

“Oh, are we…are we going now? Don’t you need to rest a little more? I won’t mind,” he said to her.

“No. I am well now.”

“Oh. Well, I thought about when are we going to..uh..continue our lessons?”

“I give up. You are impossible to teach. I cannot teach someone who is unwilling to learn.”

He watched her pack up the rest of their things. She looked angry and disappointed, yanking the strings close.

“I’m sorry. You were doing a lot of important job and I was…I wasn’t helping, I realize that now.”

She stopped packing and just looked at him with those strange eyes of hers, eyes that show nothing of what she thinks and yet seems as though it was trying to pierce into his mind. He couldn’t bear her stare for long. “I’m just saying..I wouldn’t mind if we take a few days to uh…continue our lessons? You know I never yet made the Alistair’s Spicy Special.”

She sat back on her heels as she thought about this. After a moment, she spoke. “Promise me then that you will not shirk from your instructions.”

“I promise.”

* * *

So they continued. He never knew that they can find food in the barks of trees, in the shoots of weeds in some grasses even. How to find a spring or draw water from morning dew. To build all kinds of shelter even without a tent, and make fire with no flint. And to treat basic illnesses using wild plants. Then they moved on to knots. Sometimes, he forgot what she taught him and, unsure of what to do, he stole a glance at her to get a clue based on her reaction.

“Do not look at me to see if you were doing right or wrong. Do what you think is best and stand by it,” she said.

He scowled but said nothing. He thought about what to do, then decided to just leave it up and finish it. When he was done, he handed what he made to her.

She examined it for several minutes and looked up. “You have done right.”

He smiled, happy for that little praise after so many days of being called mediocre. He found out, that the less smart-ass remarks he made, the less reprimand she’ll make. He found it made his life much easier if he went along and actually found himself enjoying listening to her speak as she discussed about a properties of a plant or how to wrap every kind of broken bone until a healer can arrive. 

Sometimes he got lost, missing her as she went far ahead and blended with her surroundings. After finding him, she made him climb a tree to see where they are, saying that the forest is treacherous and he must always seek a mountain to guide him. At night, she taught how to navigate by the stars. They sat side by side as she pointed out the different constellations and sometimes arguing about the proper names.

“Know the order of the stars. Even though your duties may take you far away to distant lands, even though you are lost and alone, remember that they are always there, and they will guide you the way back to home.”

Alistair did not know what made him turn to look at her but he saw something he did not expect. Her face was in shadow, lit by the waning moon but he caught an expression of longing. He was surprised at that; the Mahariel he knew never showed weakness and incapable of having a vulnerability as this.  “Home?”

It broke her out of her reverie and she turned to him, surprised. She thought about it for a moment and remembered what he just told her about himself. “Ah, forgive me. I forgot what you told me about your past. Where do you decide your home to be?”

Alistair shrugged. “The Grey Wardens, I suppose. I don’t think the Chantry or Arlessa Isolde is going to be happy to accept me back.” He glanced at her, gauging her mood, but her face has gone back to being inscrutable. He decided to risk asking his question. “What about you? Do you have anywhere you consider home?"

“My clan was my home but now….they had given me away. It is the grey wardens I think, same as you, whether I will or no.”

“Well, that’s…sad, because the grey wardens are gone for good, either way.”

“Do not say that. As long as we are alive, it will not cease to exist. Loghain may think that he had destroyed us, but we will rebuild. He will not win.”

For some reason, her reply cheered him up. “Yes. Yes, he won’t,” he said, smiling at the stars.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So sorry about the long wait. I thought back then that the next chapters were good to go but in hindsight, it weren't. So I hemmed and hawed, which resulted in a Mereenese knot that remained for months. In order to solve it, I had to retcon some of the last 2 chapters, namely, Alistair hasn't revealed his parentage yet. If you have trouble forgetting that particular part, I have a spell that will help: Avada Kedav-errr, I mean Obliviate!


	77. Chapter 77

Amadeus was in a hurry to get to Denerim, so he had offered to Lelianna and Wynne a ride in his bear form. In any other circumstances, he would not have done so humiliating a service, but this assured him that he would not be expected to talk about what happened to him in Redcliffe. He could stand Morrigan’s contempt, but he could not bear their pity.

Resting time is another matter. He could get away with pretending to be busy setting up a perimeter around their camp and other things, but after a few days of this, someone always has an irresistible need to fill up their nightly silences with conversation.

“So how did you become a Grey Warden?”

Amadeus looked at Wynne, puzzled. “I would not have expected you to ask that. Colluding with a bloodmage would have made Neria and me infamous back at the Circle. Gregoire would have made sure of it.”

“I only know the barest details. Gregoire and Irving kept both Jowan’s escape and your participation secret. The moment the apprentices find out, they would have tried, foolishly, to get out the same way.”

“And still, Uldred got them.”

 “Uldred was mad with power, and he should not have involved all mages to share his fate.”

He didn’t know how to answer that so they fell silent. But the silence hung heavily between them and he saw she was still looking at him expectantly. He  didn't know what for should she still hung around him. Then he realized.  “That’s not what you’re really asking, is it?” 

“Yes. How are you really?”

“I’ll live.”

“That is good. Still, you must give time for yourself to think and reflect.”

“The Blight is the only thing that occupies my mind right now.”

“Take care then that you do not overdo it. You must give yourself time to heal.”

“From what?”

Wynne fell silent for a moment, looking at the other mage. Even with the way he acted towards her back at the tower, she could not help but feel a little pity for someone so young who was entrusted with saving the world while suffering his own private grief. “You were lucky to have them as long as you did. When the pain fades, that’s what will matter.”

He looked to be reflecting at that, but all he answered was “I’ll think about it. Go to sleep. We’ll be moving early.”

* * *

They were ambushed by a darkspawn band, led by a hurlock emissary, on the road to Denerim. They were at a disadvantage, for their enemies were on higher ground and there was not much cover. However, Wynne sent a powerful wave against them and they toppled, long enough for them to flank them.

There he saw that a repulsion glyph and a paralysis glyph put on top of each other produces a paralysing shockwave. He had accidentally done it when a genlock tried to rush him and he put a paralysis glyph too close to the repulsion glyph he had on him. It had made the darkspawn stop still, long enough for Morrigan’s blizzard to finish them all. It wasn’t as powerful as a fireball, but it will do. Maybe there’s other combinations of spells that he didn’t know yet.

He and the others were about to proceed when Wynne fainted.

“Wynne!” he said, climbing down the hill and he went to help her to her feet.

“Uh..” The elder mage cradled her head as he helped her to stand. “I…fell.”

“Are you alright?”

She answered with a vague motion of her hand. “For the moment there, I thought..I thought it was all over.”

She looked around and saw she was holding up the group so she said “I will explain everything, when we are back at camp. Now is not the time.”

Later back at camp, Wynne was expecting them when Amadeus and Lelianna came by to her tent. "I think I owe you an explanation for what happened earlier," was her greeting at their approach.

 "Yes. You had us quite worried," the bard said.

"You should know that... something happened to me at the tower, before you came along. You spoke to Petra, did you not? She told you I saved her from a demon. I...did, but I did not survive that encounter."

The two fell silent at her explanation, shocked and busy examining her claim to be dead. 

 "Let me explain fully. I engaged a very powerful demon to rescue Petra. It sapped me of all my energy and will, and left me drained. It took everything I had to defeat it, and when I was done I no longer had the strength to keep my heart beating. I remember my life ebbing away; everything receded from me... sound, light... I remember being enveloped in complete, impenetrable darkness. And then I sense a presence, enfolding and cradling me, whispering quietly to me. The sensation is impossible to describe. I was being... held back, firmly, but gently, as a mother would a child eager to slip from her grasp. I felt life and warmth flowing through my veins again. I began to be aware of small sounds, and the discomfort of my hip pressing into the cold stone of the tower floor."

"So you were never really completely dead then," Lelianna said.

"The Fade contains spirits both benevolent and malicious. The benevolent spirits seldom make themselves known, because they want nothing from mortals, unlike the demons. It was one of these spirits that saved me. Without it, I would be dead. And it has not left me. It is with me, even now, bonded to me." She met their gaze levelly. "You see, I am supposed to be dead. It is the spirit that is keeping me in this world, and this is not the way of things. Perhaps the spirit did not expect this but it is weakening, gradually. I am living on borrowed time."

"Why hadn’t you told us earlier?" Amadeus asked. 

Wynne sighed. "I didn't know if you were ready to hear it. But now you know."

Lelianna reached out and clasped her hand. "Then we will make the best of that time."

She smiled, looking at her and their interlocked hands. "Yes, that we will."

* * *

After Lelianna was gone, Amadeus kept asking her about her experience with death and resurrection. She answered his questions, but could not look without pity at his obsession. “I’m sorry, but there is no spell that can resurrect someone long dead, Amadeus. I only came back to life by faith and even then, I’m still dying,” she said, patiently but firmly discouraging the younger mage to desist from subverting the natural laws of the world.

“I refuse to accept that.”

“Even so, it is the truth,” she said, frowning a little, knowing that if she cannot stop him now, he might try to know forbidden magic to bring them back.

“Truth! The truth is, the Circle never want me to learn about their deaths. They kept them from me. If only I had known, If I had come to them earlier, maybe I could have prevented it.”

“It would have been too late. And your parents would certainly not wish you to risk getting mistaken as an apostate. They would have wanted you to live on.”

Amadeus stood up and turned away from her, his hands flailing around his head as if trying to block her words out, “I know you still blame the Circle about how the news of your family was handled but…please remember that the Circle had only your best interests in mind," she continued. "I’m sure they had good reasons to keep it away from you for so long. Forgive them for what they had done. We-The Circle only wanted you to be safe.”

“Oh, I don’t know if I can forgive them. Could Lily?”

She checked at the name, bewildered at the true cause of his distress. As she puzzled over it, Amadeus stopped thrashing around by degrees, until he settled, his face in his hand and turned away from her. “I told myself I just had to close my eyes, and let it come to pass," he said finally. "Just this once, and then I will be with them. I needed to see that everything I have done was worth it. But they were dead, and so will she.”

“She is strong. She will live. And knowing her, a girl whose vows to a faceless organization are no match to her love, I am sure that she would have forgiven you.”

He let go of the hand and turned to face her, slowly. “I hope so. I so hope that you’re right.”

* * *

In contrast to Redcliffe, Denerim was still a bustling city, as if the Blight isn’t happening. There were no preparations for darkspawn attacks, for the people believed the Blight was miles away. Even if someone did, they were more likely to believe that it was just an invention of their devious neighbors. It wasn’t that strange to think about it like that, for Hero of the River Dane himself had told far and wide that the Wardens were agents of the Empress. And so, they think that the Blight is a plot to drive out hard-working and honest Fereldans out of their land and the "darkpawn" masquerading Orlesians who bathed too little and ate too much cheese. Surprising, what fear does. At the face of danger, some people would prefer to close their eyes and pretend that nothing is wrong.

And so no one blinked when a sister, a Circle mage and a wild-looking woman went inside the gates together with a dog. Who would suspect such pretty faces or an elderly woman? And they already adore dogs.

It was only when they were inside the Brother’s house that the dog wasn’t a dog but a boy. And the sister is a spy, the woman is a witch and the old woman is an abomination.

Amadeus turned back into human, sneezing. A man came downstairs and started upon seeing them. "Who're you?" he sputtered.

“Brother Genetivi, I presume?” Amadeus asked, dubious, at the man who looks too young to be the scholar.  

“No, no. I am Weylon, his assistant," he said absentmindedly. Sense returned and he looked at them with suspicion. "I did not hear you come in.  Do you have any business with him?"

"My apologies for coming in unannounced. The door was unlocked and we let ourselves in.  We're from Kinloch. My companions were long-time acquaintances of Brother Genetivi," he said, gesturing to Wynne and Lelianna,"-come to pay him a visit. We were also working about a project and we were hoping Brother Genetivi can help us. Is he home?"

"Uh...I was hoping for news of Brother Genetivi, myself," he answered, his suspicions lessening by the sight of his companions.  "When you came, I thought I'd get news from him. Wishful thinking, it seems,”the man said, looking nervously at them.

“Has something happened to him?”

He told them that the scholar had not been seen in weeks and may have been in danger. He sent for help in finding him and when knights from Redcliffe came looking for him, he sent them on his last known location.

“Where was he last seen?”

He dissuaded them from finding where the scholar had gone, saying that the knights had not returned so the search must be cursed. But they insisted, even though he told them that they may be lost too, and assured him that he won't be held responsible if that was what he feared. Weylon had no more objections to say so he told them the scholar was staying at an inn in Lake Calenhad. Amadeus groaned inwardly. It seems that he wouldn’t see the end of that bloody tower.

By instinct, Amadeus rubbed his nose. As soon as he entered the house, he transformed immediately into his human form, his dog form's sensitive nose too irritated by something caustic and the smell of...rot.

Something felt off. No, something smelled off.

“What is that smell?” he said, as he stepped further in the house, sniffing. Weylon became alarmed. “You can’t go in there. You can’t just go looking around people’s houses.” he tried to block his way to the back of the room. Well, he just told him where he should be going.

“Do you know who I am?”

“I..don’t. I didn’t quite catch the name.”

“Nevermind my name. You should be asking what am I.”

“What are….you?”

“I’m a healer. And that means I can tell a dead body when I smell one.” He drew his staff and pointed it at him. “Who are you? What are you hiding there?” The others had drawn their weapons and staffs.

“I told you everything I know. Brother Genetivi told us-told me about the inn and that’s all.

“Us?”

“I meant me. There is no us.”

“Really?”

Weylon stopped trying to be pleasant. “Bah! Why do I keep on this charade?" he said, his voice suddenly becoming menacing. "I gave you a chance to turn aside and forget you ever heard of Genetivi and the Urn. But you persisted-”   

“I admit, I’m very stubborn.”

“Now, it has come to this. Andraste forgive me! I do this in your name,” he said as he drew a weapon. he was about to charge  but Amadeus quickly laid a glyph at his feet and he stood there, paralyzed. They had him bound and gagged while they search the source of the smell. At the back of the kitchen, they found a body dead of many days past, covered in sacks and lime. Amadeus searched its clothing and found a mark bearing the name Weylon. They asked then threatened, then shouted at the impostor to make him tell his conspirators, but he did not utter any names excepts foul ones. They searched the house and found a journal, which told them that the scholar was in a town near the Frostback mountains. A town named Haven.

“What shall we do with him?” asked Wynne, looking at the assailant who knelt in his bonds and looking at them savagely.

“I think it’s best if we tell the guards about him. Let them handle him. He may turn out just some fool paid to stop anyone from looking for the Urn,” Amadeus said as he turned towards the door.

He heard lightning strike and something heavy falling. He turned around and saw the body on the floor.

“You have gone soft,” the witch said to him, her staff smoking.

Amadeus looked at the body for a moment, then glared at the witch. “He was disarmed. And we got what we wanted. Why kill him?”

She returned his glare with a cool one of her own. “I know how this so-called justice work. He would have died, either way,” she said, nodding at the rotting body.

“Nevertheless, it wasn’t ours to decide.”

“The old cat has really gotten to you.”

Amadeus stiffened. “That is none of your business.”

“No. Tis a pity that you, who I had thought had sense, would succumb to her prattling.”

“You go your own way, I go mine. But the Blight comes first. Or don’t you want to be with us?”

“ If you wish. I will not again speak my doubts about your…choices.” With one final look at the body, she swept from the room.


	78. Chapter 78

As they climbed the mountain path to Orzammar, Zevran found himself near Elissa at the back. He waited until Brosca was preoccupied from shoveling snow off the path before he started talking to her. “Our conversation together did not end so well last time. I hope you’re not offended,” he whispered, his eyes watching the dwarf.

“Not at all. In fact, I want to ask you something,” she answered.

“Oh? Please, go ahead.”

“How did you become a Crow?”

“Mm? To be truthful, I didn’t know the Crows existed when I joined them.” He told her how the Crows get their assassins by buying children and training them. He was seven when they bought him and undergone a deadly training along with and against his fellow assassins. When she expressed her dismay at their awful treatment, he shrugged it off, saying those who are left are proud of their survival as they also receive some benefits. “In Antiva, being a crow gets you respect. It gets you wealth, women…or men, whatever you fancy. This, however, requires doing what is expected of you, meaning being expendable. It’s like a gilded cage: pretty but confining.”

“And what do you like?”

“I like many things. I like things that are beautiful and things that are strong. I like things that are dangerous and exciting. Would you be offended if I said I liked you?”

“Because I’m dangerous and exciting?”

“And deadly. A deadly sex goddess.”

She her eyes away from him and flipped her hair, as if getting it out the way so she could watch the dwarf's progress better. “Well, If you can’t help but feel that way about me, then why should I stop you?”

He laughed. “Why indeed?”

“Though I can’t be blamed if you waste away pining.”

“Ah, I assure you it would not come to that. I can picture many things to do other than pine.”

“I’m sure you do. You’re too clever by half.”

“Ah, you flatter me.”

She looked at him innocently. “Oh? It wasn’t my intention. I thought I was just telling the truth.”

“And yet that makes it even better.”

“Ahem.” Ahead, Brosca was looking at them suspiciously, his hands atop his sword’s hilt. He walked towards them and told them since they have so much time on their hands, they might as well help him. 

“You know, my good dwarf,” Zevran began, panting from the effort, “you would have people pining for you if you smile a little.”

“Get!”

* * *

They arrived at the gate before Orzammar, where they found a band of humans arguing with the gatekeeper.

“Vieta! This land is held in trust for the sovereign dwarven king. I cannot allow you entry at this time,” they heard the gatekeeper say.

“King Loghain demands the allegiance of the deshyr-or lords or whatever you call them in your Assembly. I am Imrek, his appointed messenger!” the leader of the humans insisted.

“Hah. Ain’t dey gonna let ‘im in with dat. Dem lords donna like people givin dem no respect,” Brosca commented, arms crossed, as they looked at the scene.

“Loghain’s people is here? Perhaps we should come back later,” Elissa whispered to her companions.

“I don’t care if you’re the king’s wiper. Orzammar will have none but its own until the throne is settled,” the gatekeeper replied to Imrek.

“What does he mean by settled? Does that mean their king is dead?”

“Nah. No way da king croaked. Last time I was here, he been bonny. But we ain’t gonna be sure of dat if we be standin here.” Before they could stop him, Brosca walked up to the gatekeeper. “What’s dis about da king?”

The gatekeeper turned toward him, scrutinizing him for a moment then remembered. “You’re the casteless! The one who dishonered the Proving.” He scowled.  “And now you dare show your face around here.”

“Aye, what about it? I can do it again by kicking yer ass from there and back.”

 “He meant no disrespect. Please pardon his rudeness, he was just concerned about the king’s health,” Elissa intervened, stepping forward between them. Brosca just snorted. “If you be so kind to tell us, good sir, how the king fares this days?” 

The gatekeeper looked from Brosca to Elissa, still frowning. But he accepted her apology. “The king has returned to the Stone not three weeks ago, sick with the sorrow of losing his sons.”

“I see. Please have our deepest condolences. But we have an important mission we need to do in your city.”

“As a nobody? Hah. You’re not getting in,” Imrek said, crossing his arms and looking down at them.

“You can wait along with them until the succession is over,” the gatekeeper said, pointing at him . “The Assembly has gone through a dozen votes without agreeing on a successor. If it’s not settled soon, we risk civil war.”

“I'm afraid our mission can't wait, sir.” She didn’t want to reveal themselves to Loghain’s messenger, not when Thorin explicitly told them to avoid doing this. But, when she thought about it, Loghain wouln't need to know about this. She glanced at Zevran, holding his gaze and looked at the messenger. Zevran followed her gaze and after a minute, he shrugged. “We are the Grey Wardens. These treaties oblige Orzammar to help us,” she proclaimed, handing the papers to the gatekeeper.

Imrek gaped at her for a moment then started protesting. “The Wardens killed King Cailan and nearly doomed Ferelden! They’re sworn enemies of King Loghain!” he said to the gatekeeper. The gatekeeper ignored him, preferring to look closely at the treaties.

“Well, that is the royal seal. That means the Assembly is authorized to address it,” the gatekeeper said finally, handing back the papers to her. “Grey wardens, you may pass.”  

“What! They’re king-slayers, you can’t let them pass,” Imrek protested to him. “In the name of King Loghain, I demand that you execute these…. _stain_ on the honor of Ferelden.”

“That’s between the two of you. I’ll have no part of this,” the gatekeeper said and turned away.

Imrek fumed at his back before turning towards them. He saw her smirking at him and he was baited. “You insolent girl! Loghain will hear about this,” he hissed.

“Yes, run. Run like he did at Ostagar, leaving his king and his countrymen to die.”

“You liar! You were the ones who betrayed the King!”

“He was the traitor. I saw what happened. He was a coward who ran before the darkspawn.”

“You’ll pay for that,” Imrek said, drawing his sword. But before he could draw it out fully, Zevran was at his back and slit his throat. His companions stood, shocked, as their leader fell, unable to decide whether to fight or to flee, until Sten decided for them. With a sweep of his greatsword, they joined their leader in a heap.

“We can’t let them live,” Elissa said, wiping the blood off her face, her eyes fixed eerily on the bodies. They can't let them go without risking them getting a bigger party to ambush them on the way out. “Right?”

Brosca looked up from his looting. “Aye lass. They had no business being with Loghain.”

* * *

Inside the Diamond Quarter, they found the two candidates for the throne argue before the entrance to the Proving grounds. Accusations were thrown until one of Bhelen's men was incensed and cut down one of Harrowmont's supporters. The captain of the guard decided he had enough and intervened, dispersing the crowd. The wardens could not get close to any of the candidates, as the place filled with people fleeing and the guards calling for order. When at last they could reach the captain, he told them to approach either Harrowmont or Bhelen’s second. Seeing the behavior of Bhelen's party, Elissa urged them to approach Harrowmont. They first went to Harrowmont’s second, Dulin Forender at the noble's house. Dulin said they could not meet Harrowmont until they've proven their loyalty. To gain his favor, they had to discover why the fighters who pledged to fight for himt in the Proving backed out and persuade them to  fulfill their vow. This did not endear Harrowmont to Brosca, and Zavran mocked the noble who wants to be king and yet cannot keep his own fighters faithful to him.

So they went in the royal palace and looked for Bhelen's second, Vartag Gavorn at the hall. Vartag said that he wouldn't allow them to meet the prince until they had proven their loyalty.

“What d’ya wanna want us to do?” Brosca asked. Vartag explained that Harrowmont has been buying votes of deshyrs but he has offered the same estate to both Lady Dace and Lord Helmi. He tasked them to show the promissory notes to both nobles to prove Harrowmont’s double dealing.

Brosca handed the notes to Elissa so she could read it. Elissa exclaimed upon the worthlessness of Lord Harrowmont as she perused the notes. Brosca, however was grinning at Vartag until the dwarf scowled and asked him why he was grinning.

“Nothin. Just that yer so funny talkin out yer ass.”

“How dare you talk like that to me! You think you’re important now because you're a warden but everyone here knows you’re just a common duster,” Vartag spat at him.

“Aye. But see, ye ain’t different from me. Ye think yer so fancy now, prancin about the palace, but yer still a thug. Ye can wear these clothes and make yerself as same as dem nobles, but ye can’t change who ye are.”

Vartag went red with anger but before he could speak, Brosca said “I ain’t one of yer nobles ye can fool. These papers ain’t true. Cos I know this Harrowmont. Ye ain’t gonna catch him make tricks like this; this tricks are ours.”

Vartag was about to order them to get out but stopped. “ Yes, they are fake. And so what? It won’t matter anyway how it’s done when Bhelen becomes king.” He crossed his arms and said “What are you going to do about it, duster?”

Brosca took the papers away from Elissa and stuffed them in his pcokets. “Imma give these to dem nobles, alright. Am just sayin yer fancy airs ain’t gonna pass with me.”

* * *

They were looking for Lord Helmi when Elissa called them to stop. “I don’t like this, Brosca,” she said. “Setting up an innocent man, this isn’t-this isn’t what we’re supposed to be doing. This is evil, I know you know this.”

“Just git along, alright? Ye see Harrowmont? Harrowmont’s old and too weak to sit in that throne. Only Bhelen’s gonna make things better. He’s been doing this…trade thing and he’s gonna let the casteless fight the ‘spawn. Ah- what’s the point, ye ain’t gonna understand,” he said, throwing up his arms.

“I know I don’t know Orzammar like you do, Brosca but I know evil when I see it. I don’t understand how Bhelen could make things better when he would do something as framing his opponents. This isn’t honorable.”

“They been feeding ye a lie. Ye think these nobles ye see got any honor? They would sell their own mothers if they gonna get lots of money from them.”

"But you know what he did to Thorin."

"He's been tricked by his baby brother so he feel bad. So? This is what nobles do with each other. Always trying to get one up. If he ain't looking sharp, then he wouldn't been thrown out."

She was taken aback with his bitterness. She was going to argue but felt it would be pointless trying to change his mind when she knew little about Orzammar. But she’s not going to let go without a fight. “What do you think, Zevran?” she asked the Antivan.

“Me? Why ask me?” the elf asked, surprised.

“Are you going to do as Brosca says?”

The elf looked from her to Brosca and back. “Well..I have to say first that it’s nothing personal. I just wonder why we should ally with someone who cannot keep his own men from running like frightened children? Isn’t it best if we ally with the stronger candidate, someone who can wear his crown without losing his neck? Even though he is no paragon of virtue?” He waited for her answer, but she stayed silent. “But that is just my opinion. I will go where you both wish to go.”

“What about you, Sten?”

“That we are wasting time.”

“Nevermind.” She turned to Brosca. “Alright, Brosca. We’re doing this.”

“I canna explain it good but ye just trust me, alright? It’s gonna be fine.”

Later, Brosca entered the tavern and gave the forged papers to Lord Helmi. The noble swore out loud and said that he will never support Lord Harrowmont after this. Brosca let him rage and after hearing him pledge his vote to the prince, walked out. He was feeling good, until he him saw Elissa bending over her dog. “Something wrong?” he asked.

She looked up at him, her hair untied, half hiding the dog from his view. “Oh, it’s nothing. It's just that Ser Barker's sick. I think it's because he doesn’t like being underground."

The dog looked up at him and whined.

“I think it’s best if he waited for us outside,” she suggested.

“Aye. let him go then,” Brosca said and turning his back from them. They needed to convince Anwer Dace, Lady Dace's father, who was in the Aeducan thaig to gain their house's vote for Bhelen. His mind was preoccupied with finding someone who knows the path to the thaig than the dog's health.

She finished fixing his collar and let go of Ser Barker. The dog bounded away from them, into the hall of visitors, until he soon disappeared.


	79. Chapter 79

Just because they were not on mission doesn't mean the dwarf would let them relax. Tabris, Neria and Thorin were going around the countryside helping people as well as looking for Elissa's brother, with little success. Everyone they met had never seen or heard about Fergus or know anyone who does. 

"Fergus, Fergus, Fergus. Here boy!" Tabris called out to the forest one day in frustration.

Thorin stopped building the fire to scold the elf. "He isn't a dog, Tabris. And you're just making us a target for whatever beast that is lurking in there," he said, pointing at the trees where the setting sun was lengthening the shadows between them.  

 "I know. It's just-", the elf made a helpless motion with his hand. "I don't want this to be true but maybe the reason why we never heard of Fergus is because he hasn't..survived Ostagar like us?"

The dwarf just shrugged his shoulders. "I thought of that. However, we still need to know whether he is alive or dead. Elissa deserves that much."

"I know. It must be pretty hard not knowing if your family's safe while you're off fighting a war. Well at least Brosca's going to meet his mother and sister again."

The twig snapped loudly in Thorin's hand. Tabris comment made him remember about his father and brother and made him wonder how they were doing. He was worried about his father, who was left to grieve for the death of one son, the loss of another and the betrayal of the third, with no one to comfort him. He still wasn't sure what he felt about Bhelen. He still held some lingering affection for his brother, an affection that still fought with the anger brought about by his actions. Truth be told, he longed to go to Orzammar but he knew they would not let him in. The mission comes first.

Wile he was deep in thought, the elf kept rambling on about the stories Brosca told about his family. "It must be nice having a sibling. I'm an only child but I have cousins, which I used to think as my own siblings. The scrapes we're always getting in to. I can't believe we had it better before I heard about Brosca's. Did you know he joined the carta when he was ten? He practically raised his sister because his mother was no help at all. She had a drinking problem, you see, and their father left them years ago. I thought being an elf in a city of humans couldn't get any worse until I heard about the caste...less," he finished when he realized, seeing Thorin's horrified expression, who he was talking to.   

If Tabris was expecting any sympathy from him, he was disappointed.  "I'm sorry to hear about his family but at least by Brosca being a Grey Warden, I hope their lives would be improved," the dwarf said shortly and dismissed the matter as if it was just an interesting anecdote.

Tabris' jaw fell open, too appalled to think of a reply immediately. "That's it? That's all you have to say?"

 "What would you have me say?"

"Anything but sitting smugly there as if there's no people suffering right under your nose," he answered in a near shout. 

Thorin glanced at Neria. She was too absorbed in putting up their tents or else making a castle with it to hear them. he made sure of her indifference before turning back to the glowering elf. "If you're expecting more from me, then you're going to be disappointed. You think I'd feel more about hearing that? I don't. Their story would not have been that way if they had not been casteless in the first place," he said coldly.

"Wh-pff. I can't believe you just blamed them for shit that happened to them from something they had no control over! You think they asked for any of that?"

Thorin folded his arms and stared at the elf. "What do you know about the casteless?"

 "That it's unfair and that they're being punished for something their great-great-grand parent had done."

"And why is it unfair?"

He spelled it out for him. "Because they're not the ones who had done it, that's why!" 

Thorin let him calm down before he began explaining. "Doesn't the Chantry tell you that it was some mages who had caused the Blight?"

Tabris was too confused to express his outrage. "What does that have anything to do with the casteless?"

"This happened a long time ago and all of you were not descended from them. And yet here you are suffering from the destruction they have caused. You were not the ones who had done it but your god see fit to punish all of you. But you never question its fairness. Why is that?"

"I..." He couldn't think of anything to say against that. He was a devout worshipper, not a theologian. This is a matter for the priests. "Stop trying to change the subject," he said.

"All I'm saying is that evil would go beyond your original intentions. We never strip castes lightly. If we did, it is for cases where crime was so great, we still feel its effects years from now. If a dwarf committed that, they must not expect that its effects would stop with them. They not only doom themselves but all their kin." He began explaining about the Stone, where all dwarves come from and where, if they were worthy, they hope to return someday. The strength of the Stone and consequently the strength of future generations of dwarves depend on the character of those who died. Being stripped of the caste does not just mean loss of status but also include the rejection from the Stone, not only of the perpetrator but also their descendants. It had to be done so the Stone will not be weakened by their actions, like cutting a diseased limb off a tree. "This is the price of dishonor that all dwarves must take great care not to incur."

Tabris had never heard of dwarven religion before, which somewhat made him less sure of his position. But he isn't beaten yet. “So..you’re just going to let them suffer then?”

“If they had atoned for their ancestor’s crimes, they can be accepted back into our society and remove the brand. By doing something great that they can be forgiven.”

“Like what?”

Thorin thought for a moment and found that he heard rarely of a casteless who had successfully removed their brand. “Like becoming a Grey Warden.”

“Becoming a Grey Warden? Surely you know by now that becoming one is risky because of the Joining? And that it makes you short-lived and….sterile?”

“I did not know that then.”

“You don’t know or you don’t want to?”

“And what it is that supposed to mean?”

“Nothing. I’m just saying you lot is really persistent to keep the casteless as they are.”

Thorin had enough of his accusations. "You're too intent on painting me as bad while knowing nothing about us. On what authority do you have to judge me?" he thundered. "Do me a favor. Learn more about what is it you're criticizing before you put all those questions to me," he said, throwing the stick into the fire and walking away to help Neria on the tents.

* * *

The next few days passed by in a show of solidarity on while they were going about helping people and an uneasy silence while they were with themselves. Not even Neria's antics could defuse it. When she had gone to bed, the two found themselves alone.

Thorin stood up and announced he was going to sleep for the next watch.

"Wait," Tabris called to him.

He stood waiting for what the elf would ask him.

"I realize..I wasn't being fair that I didn't ask for your side. But there's no one else to ask so I'm...asking you."

Thorin looked at him, wondering if he should be the one explaining his culture to him. Their past conversation had troubled him so much he spent the past few days in reflecting. 

He had treated the issue of the casteless as a fact of life, something that was  a given like the color of his hair or his race. Until Tabris mentioned about Brosca's family, he never really thought about them. His upbringing had sheltered him from the reality of their lives, and his profession had only led him into seeing them in the worst possible light. By being raised in the Diamond Quarter, he had never had an opportunity to see their plight down in Dust Town. And as a warrior, he usually encountered them in some criminal plot or other. It was a rule of thumb for him that if there is a casteless anywhere than Dust Town, it is a sign that a crime is underfoot. To him, the casteless is like a vulture circling overhead. Following them would certainly lead to a corpse. It does not help that he is usually proven right by this; the casteless do not go to the Diamond Quarter only to sightsee.

This had made him think, mistakenly, that it was the casteless who is encouraging the vice in the nobles and not the other way around. But now that he heard from their perspective, he was less sure and hearing his explanations out loud, he was not satisfied. He did not believe that anything that is right can be defended with just saying that that's just the way it is. Anything that claim to be right should be supported by reason and not dogmatical belief.

Is sin inherited? On the other side, does virtue? If virtue is, then why did Bhelen, who was descended from a Paragon, killed his brother and framed him for it? Why did the nobles who had the same origins would even let him get away with that and even do things that are undeserving of their caste?

He still think that stripping someone of their caste is a just punishment for a crime, but this neglected to consider what to do if these outcasts have children. Does a crime against society get absolved with the death of the original perpetrators? This would require an inquiry of whether sin or virtue is inherited but since no one has raised it and made no provisions for it, the only law applicable to them, the inheritance of caste, was in effect. By their nature as casteless and therefore to be shunned, no noble would take interest in their plight. If they did take interest, it was because of an incentive to keep them as they are. A group of people who cannot refuse and whom the law gives no protection, is quite handy when you need to do something unsavoury.  

He decided to do it, for the elf as well as for himself. He started with Orzammar and the caste system. “The caste system is a hierarchy of roles. Nobles have the highest status as they interpret the will of our ancestors and uphold the law. Next to them are the warriors. They protect the people from external threats and keep order. Then we have the smiths, the merchants, the artisans and the servants. They produce what we need or do the service and from the relative safety of their homes and workshops.”

Tabris fell silent as he thought about what he was just been told. “It sounds very...rigid,” he said, finally.

The dwarf just shrugged. “We all have a role to play.”

“I don’t think it seems fair that you’re judged by the caste you are born into.”

He was being judgmental again but Thorin decided to explain rather than act on those feelings. “We are born into a fate we cannot choose. But is character dictated on the circumstance of one’s birth and situation? There is still a choice, whether to reject it or live up to it.”

“What if say someone from the merchant class really is a great warrior but they can’t because of it?”

The dwarf thought that yes, there are cases where he wished this person would have been better born in a caste suited to their skill, rather than the one they had been born into. But as a whole, just because they want to, does not mean they should. “Suppose then that they could do as they wished. Do you think it would be harmful to our society?”

“Not much, I think.”

“But when this merchant who was meant to be as they are, attempt to force their way into the warrior class, and the warrior aiming to be a noble who they are not fitted, and everyone tries to be what they are not meant to, do you think the society can still function? That it can continue being supplied with what it needs, being defended or the rule of law upheld? For our society to work, everyone needs to do the roles required of them. If people do not perform their roles and instead is busy trying to be something they are not meant to be, how do they expect our society to get on?”

“But you’re limiting their freedom.”

“Why should that be a bad thing? You seem to think that membership in a society is free. It is not. Every person is born with absolute freedom, which they can have as long as they live, provided that they do not join a society. For society requires giving up some of their personal freedom, such as the freedom to do evil, in order to get its benefits. The only difference between yours and mine is how much. We pay a lot to keep our society running. Do you think we live like here”-he gestured to their surroundings, the plain filled with green, the forest teeming with animal sounds, “-with nature providing what we need without us working hard for it? We cannot afford mistakes or indecision; we don’t have the luxury of just doing what we want and expect that we still get the benefits as before.”

“And the casteless?”

"They are free from obligation to us as we to them. If they suffer, then that is only the effect of rejecting society and its rules."  

"What if they want to go back?"

"They'll have to earn the right."

Tabris asked no more on the matter. It was very apparent now to him that dwarves do not share the same morality as the rest of them, and though he doesn't like it, he was glad he was not a dwarf. And Thorin was right; Brosca's family would be better off now that he is a warden.  

But Thorin was less confident in himself as compared to Tabris. The whole discussion had only served to make him question about the system he had grown under, as he had never done before. He thought that the while the caste system leads to order, it is far from perfect. His sense of justice, that which both state and citizen exploit their best nature to the fullest,  dictates that each person should do what they are best fitted for and he could not ignore that some people are better off being in another caste. That does not mean the system should be scrapped.   There is a way to achieve that without sacrificing the order the system ensures. They can change caste by petitioning the Shaperate who will deem if the petitioner is worthy enough for their desired caste. Maybe they can require a demonstration of skills. For example, someone wanting to be a smith would have to submit their own work and be judged worthy while someone aiming to be a warrior would wait for the Proving to show their mettle.

The same opportunities could be given to the casteless. Redemption is not given equal importance by the dwarves as honor, but the casteless should be given it nonetheless, he thought. Instead of the nobles looking among them only for henchmen, they should instead be encouraged to look for artisans, warriors or smiths among them. This would require that the casteless be given an opportunity to restore their castes and thus rejoin their society. All of this would need the approval of the Assembly and the Shaperate, a significant reform that would be difficult and long to undertake. 

If they could survive this, he vowed to present this to his father, if he was forgiven. It would take time given the nobles’ tendency to forgo justice for profit, a tendency his father and he tried hard to discourage.

But this is a cause worth fighting for. 

* * *

How far would you go for the ones you love?

They were on their way back, past the gate of Denerim, when Amadeus heard a gull cry and looking around, saw the docks and the ships in the distance.

He could go. There is nothing here stopping him from going. He really didn’t need to make the deal with the dwarf; with his powers, he could slip away and none would know where he is. The deal was just a habit with him, an old habit he had from years of living in that tower, to keep his sanity unlike many of the others had not done, deluding himself that he had a choice when actually he had none.

It all started one fateful day, over his cold dead, body, when Amadeus realized the price he has to pay to return to his parents. His hands that was meant to heal and help was instead used as a step in the system of their oppression, like a mule yoked to the wheel. He may hate Lily, but the truth was, he was no better than her. Just like her, he used his powers for their tormentors, keeping them in health, watching over their victims until the Harrowing where they are led like pigs for slaughter. With all that he must pretend that nothing is wrong, everything is fine, and all the templars had done is for their own good.

He had done all that but he could not look at his fellow mages and not know that some of them will end up lying in the cold stone floor, in a pool of their own blood, while he would be called on to heal their killers. And if they survived, see them with this hollow-eye look, meekly accepting instructions from their jailors, accepting their fate, being told that their dreams are dangerous, that it attracts evil and so they must never hope more than what they are given. 

And yet it was all in vain. The dream he had held on for so long, the dream that kept him sane and hopeful, even with his death, it had vanished. No, not vanished; it was merely impossible from the start. And now what?

He doesn’t know. 


	80. Chapter 80

Redcliffe was previously a home of horrors, but it is easily defended and nearly impregnable. So it isn’t a surprise that refugees start pouring in from Central Ferelden, as the darkspawn had finally gotten beyond the Wilds. With the king gone and no heir named, the nobles who should be protecting these people are flailing about like headless chickens. They could not make a single decision in Denerim as they either had to defend their lands or attend the endless sessions where Loghain is still trying to convince them to his banner. It was a difficult task, as soldiers who survived Ostagar returned to their lords and complained bitterly of their betrayal.   

A few days later, Mahariel and Alistair joined other people feeling to the town and fought their way among the throng to find Thorin. They found him in the square directing orders to the townspeople. They waited after he was done issuing orders before approaching him.

“Why did you take so long? We were becoming worried about both of you,” Thorin asked them.

“We were preoccupied,” Mahariel said simply while Alistair slyly shot her a side glance. Fortunately, the dwarf did not catch that. He was rubbing his eyes as she explained, too exhausted and sleep-deprived to pay much attention to her.

 He had just come from a meeting with the banns of the southern lands who did not yet flee to Denerim, convincing them to work with them in stopping the approach of darkspawn further inland. The banns did not trust him at first, half-believing the lie that it was them who abandoned the king at Ostagar. He insisted they were innocent and stated that they had no choice but to trust them. They looked from him to Bann Teagan, who declared his support for the Wardens. They finally agreed, assured more by their peer’s confidence rather than by anything Thorin can say. They might still suspect the wardens of treachery, but they had sense enough to know that they would all be destroyed if they did not work together. They only promised to work with Redcliffe in stopping the darkspawn from encroaching on their lands, and not send their knights for defense of any keep, ally or not. The dwarf thought it was good enough.    

As soon as she was finished talking, the dwarf pointed them to a pile of planks and poles. “We‘re helping Redcliffe prepare for the darkspawn. As we know, the horde may be going here from the Wilds and it’d be better that Redcliffe be defended as we wait for our allies. We’re going to erect barricades here,” he said, pointing to the pass to the village, before it are people digging ditches and filling them with pikes while others are in the docks, constructing boats should the village be abandoned and they need to escape.

“We also need healers. We’ve got many injured people coming in.”

Alistair hesitated for a moment then said “I know a little healing. I could go if you don’t need me somewhere else?” He glanced at Mahariel and suddenly looked panicked. “I’ll go help them,” he said, standing a little straighter.

Mahariel turned to go. Thorin watched her walk away then turned to Alistair. “Is something wrong?”

“Apart from my hair getting too long, no nothing’s wrong.”

He looked at him, deciding whether to press further but decided to focus on the more important things. “Since when did you know how to do basic healing?”

“Despite the templar’s best efforts, I’m not actually completely stupid. I’m a quick study, just so you know.”

The dwarf is not in the mood for smart-ass comments. But before he could say anything, Tabris walked up to them.

“Maker, it’s like preparing for a siege,” the elf observed as he stood beside them. “If the darkspawn is really coming here, I wonder what happened to Lothering.”

The dwarf looked to the horizon, as if giving their fates to the hands of their god. “No doubt they were already overrun. Lothering can’t be defended; it’s too open. It’d be surrounded by the horde easily. If the Chantry Mother listened to me, they would have told the people to flee before then.”

Their efforts had paid off, when refugees from Lothering begain arriving in droves. The people were too many than they expected, and so were low on supplies of medicine, blankets or food. Thorin was called up the castle as the bann explained that they could not accommodate so many of them. The dwarf’s solution was to use the Wardens’ right of conscription. Many of the refugees did not like that, losing their goods immediately after losing their homes, but it was this or back into danger.  

But before they were let in, they were required to pass before the wardens.

“We’re going to sort them out. We can’t risk those with the taint to get in,” Thorin announced to the Wardens. “If the taint’s advanced enough, we have to kill them, if need be,” he added, which only served to horrify them further .

“Aren’t we supposed to be helping people? Why are we deciding who lives and who dies?” Tabris asked.

“We’re low on resources and we can’t risk people with the Taint inside. Unless there are other ways?” he asked, looking at Alistair.

Alistair shook his head. “I never learned the recipe for the Joining potion. I’m sorry.”

Thorin only nodded. There is still no word from Orlais or Weisshaupt. He turned to the elf, who was still stunned by what they had to do. “This is difficult, but we have to do it. We all know there’s no cure for the taint and there’s no point prolonging the inevitable.” When he was met with silence, he added “We have to do this, so no one else has to.”

Tabris thought about this. He still doesn’t like this but even so, the dwarf was right; no one but them could do it. “This sucks.”

 The remaining wardens watched the throng of people walking their way to Redcliffe past the barricades, looking for signs of the Taint. More than once, they had to separate them from the crowd, telling their families that their loved one cannot be saved and the only thing that can be done is to put them out of the inevitable madness. They will only be a burden to the dwindling supply of food, blankets or medicine.

* * *

A few days later, the Denerim group arrived. They reported about what happened at the city and told them about Brother Genetivi’s last known location. The dwarf let them rest that day while arranging matters with the bann before they departed for Haven.

As soon as the sun set, they set up camp. As they wait for dinner, Amadeus asked Wynne if he could learn from her, surprising most of them. Surprising, because he asked without his usual prickliness and everyone knew they did not like each other when they first met. It seems that the trip to Denerim had done him good even after the incident at Redcliffe.

Right now, they were practicing on a bush, with Neria who was too curious about this new development that she had to give her usual encouragements.

After Wynne taught him the basics, Amadeus gave a demonstration. He shot a spell at a bush. The bush shivered a moment…then stayed defiantly green.

The two mages at each side of him stared at him.

“Are you even a mage?” Neria asked him.

“Apparently not, since even after I healed you, your brain is still dead,” he shot back.

“Now, now, children,” Wynne interceeded. She turned to Amadeus. “It seems that the Primal school isn’t for you. Why don’t you try the Entropy school?”

“Hah! As if I would wish to learn from wannabe demon worshippers and obnoxious vandals*. No, I don’t want to learn all the primal spells. Just this one,” he answered.

Wynne raised her eyebrow at him for a moment. She rather doubted his success at a style so ill-suited to him but it was his request. “Alright. We’ll do this again. But maybe you can try using a cold staff?”

In the meantime, Tabris took this opportunity to continue what he started.

“So how do you find Ferelden, so far?” he asked Lelianna, joining her at her campfire. “I hope you’re not too disappointed. As you know, we kind of have a pest problem which we are fixing right now but it’s very beautiful in the summer.”

She laughed. “You don’t need to tell me how charming Ferelden is, since I consider myself one of you.”

Tabris mouth fell open. “You mean the accent is all in my head?”

“You are not imagining it. My mother was from Denerim and I see myself as Fereldan.” She explained that her mother served an Orlesian noblewoman during the Occupation. When the Orlesians were driven out, her mother followed the noblewoman to Orlais, choosing exile out of loyalty to her mistress.

"So your mother must be waiting for you back there in Orlais."

"Ah, no. Sadly, Mother died when I was very young. Lady Cecilie let me stay with her. I had no one else.”

“I’m sorry.”

“It’s alright. It was a long time ago.”

“Do you remember her much?”

“The only thing I really remember of Mother was her scent. She kept dried flowers in her closet, amongst her clothes. Small, white Ferelden wildflowers with a sweet fragrance. Mother called them Andraste's Grace. They were very rare in Orlais." She smiled a little as she remembered the flowers that invoked the memory of her mother. Then her smile faded. “It is unfair that I have more memories with Lady Cecilie than my mother.”

“You were very young. It’s understandable.”

“Thank you.”

 “So Lady Cecilie raised you?”

“Yes. She was a good person. My mother wasn’t married and with child. Lady Cecilie have everyright to turn my mother out but she didn’t. When my mother died, she took me in. She was an elderly lady, very refined and have impeccable manners and taste. She had me study music and dance to entertain her.”

“Ah. Then we have her to thank for your beautiful singing then.”

Her mood changed.

He was puzzled, because he only wanted to complement her. “Is something wrong?”

“Ah, no. You’re very kind,” she said, returning to her former brightness. “If you like, I can sing you a song as thanks?”

“Sure, why not? I think we all need a song every now and then,” he answered just as brightly as her. As she regaled them with a song, it did not escape his notice that though she tried to return to her normal cheerfulness, his comment have rattled her and this offer of singing is a ploy. But for what? He could not think about why it should affect her so and could not find out without prying.

Or maybe she didn’t like him anymore.

But why? Is it his face again? But that’s unfair. It’s not like he could do something about that, can’t he?

Bah, women.

* * *

“Did you really grow up in the Korcari Wilds?” Thorin asked when he came by Morrigan’s tent.

“Why do you ask me such questions? I do not probe you for pointless information, do I?” she asked defensively.

“I’m just curious, that’s all.”

She looked at him, trying to determine if he was sincere. He was, and she relented. “Any number of cats could inform you the answer to that question but have it your way. What is it you ask? If I grew up in the Wilds? Where else do you picture me? For many years it was Flemeth and I.”

“And you never left before now?”

“I have gone to civilized lands before.”

“Why?”

“Perhaps I was very curious, as you are now.”

It went very quiet for a moment. “Alright, I’ll give you that.”

She laughed. “But truly, yes, I was curious then at what lay beyond the Wilds.” She told him that she thought she knew everything to know but found out that her mother had not taught her everything, especially about human manners like eating at a table, looking at nother’s eyes and making a bargain without offending. She asked him about the touching.

“Touching? Like a handshake? We dwarves don’t do that but I guess it’s a way of greeting for humans.”

She considered this and dismissed it. “I find it offensive intrusion.”

“Nevertheless, you must have quite an adventure.”

“Sure, if by adventure you meant avoiding the notice of superstitious people.” She told him how, in one of her forays, a Chasind knew her as a Witch of the Wilds and would have succeeded in incarcerating her, had she not the wits to pretend to play victim and portray her accuser as the one dabbling in forbidden magic. He was arrested by the captain of the guard, who she seduced into believing her story. “Men are always willing to believe two things about a woman: one, that she is weak and two, that she finds him attractive,” she said, stating the lesson she learned from that experience.

“Is that the only encounter you have when you were in danger of being found out?”

“Sadly no. My mother has been wanted from time to time, by templar fools like Alistair, which should tell you how successful they are.” She told him how, when she was too young to understand what is happening, Flemeth would make their raids into a game and sometimes use her to lure the templars deeper into the forest. She enjoyed it at first, before she realized what was happening. “I never did any of the killing until later. And even then, Flemeth is a glutton for this….sort of thing,” she said, looking uncomfortable as she said that. She continued telling him that they simply moved around the Wilds after every visit from the templars. She never heard before of apostates and maleficars but knew that the templars give no mercy to them. “If the Wilds have taught me anything, ‘tis this, first: you must survive. Do you agree?”

“Yes. However, you’ll find later that survival is not the only thing there is.”

“Oh? Pray tell what then if it is not survival?”

He smiled at her. “It’s something you have to find out by yourself.”

“So! You are also capable of creating mysteries on your own. It is..interesting,” she said, raising a brow. “Very well, I shall take your challenge.”

* * *

Mahariel announced that their food was ready. As they gathered, Tabris absentmindedly asked about the cook.

“It is Alistair,” Mahariel replied as she gave out the bowls.

They stared at the templar in horror.

“Oh, don’t look at me like that. It’s not like the past, I promise,” Alistiar said, who carried the pot and set it down.

They still look skeptical at it. As Mahariel ladled a portion, Neria sniff at her bowl suspiciously.

“Look, I’ll eat it first and you can see that there’s nothing to worry about,” Alistair said, trying to reassure them.

“I don’t know, Alistair. Snakes are immune to their own poison, you know,” Tabris answered him, eyes still narrowed at him.

“Really? Oh. There goes my plan of taking over using the power of my cooking.”

“Be my guest, I’m sure I could use the break.” Thorin said.

“I’m joking. Please don’t take it seriously.”

“As if anyone would take you seriously. If you’re planning a coup by poisoning us all, chances are you’d botch it,” Morrigan said.

“If anyone’s curious to see a poisonous snake, you only need turn to your side.”

“Alright, that’s enough,” Thorin said, cutting short their bickering. “Eat up. Even if it’s as bad as we remembered, we’re not going to get worse than a stomachache.” Thorin took a bite of his own portion. He suddenly stopped, looking puzzled at his bowl, which encouraged Tabris to take a bite also. He also stopped to look at it.

“It’s…not bad,” he said, after a moment. “Am I dreaming, or is it actually delicious?”

“Yes! They've fallen under the spell of my cooking.”

“Now, you’ve ruined it.”

Thorin filled a mug and raised it. “A toast, to the new cook!”

They all raised their mugs and cheered. Alistair caught Mahariel’s eye and on impulse, smiled. She smiled back.

When everyone’s served, he seated himself besides her. “You know, I’ve never really thanked you for teaching me,” he whispered, careful not to earn the notice of the witch and ruin his triumph.

“I thank you too.”

“For what?”

“For listening.”

* * *

“Here, let me show you.” Amadeus waved his wand and at once an aura of power covered him from head to foot. It enveloped him in tiny flickering lights before it disappeared.

Neria blinked. “What was that?” she said.

“Its a spell that amplify spellpower by using great amounts of mana.”

“Eh. Lame.” She started to turn away.

Amadeus sighed. “It’s a spell to make your enemies go more ka-boom.”

“Why don’t you say so? Let’s get started then,” she said, walking past him as he stared straight ahead.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *For anyone puzzled at Amadeus' comment, you'll find a codex in the fade section of the Broken Circle saying that there's a rivalry between schools of magic. Blood magic, being taboo, would be considered the coolest. But the entropy school is very similar to blood magic, with the mind control etc. So it would be very popular with the apprentices because of its similarity to blood magic, but without the drawbacks. From the same codex, you'll read that entropists are the natural rivals of creationists, which is the faction Amadeus belongs.


	81. Chapter 81

Tabris and Leliana were talking some some trivial things when she revealed that she knew some stories. At once, the wardens clamored for one from her. She obliged, chuckling at their enthusiasm, and as they gathered around her, she began to tell a tale of a knight, the story of Aveline. It’s a story that pleased everyone, showing the Dalish in a good light which made Mahariel happy, lots of fighting for honor or glory which pleased the men and a woman striving for recognition in a prejudiced society, which pleased the women. Best of all, it shows the stupidity of the Orlesians, which a lot of people just loves to hear about. The choice of a story is one part of what makes a great storyteller, and Leliana has passed it with flying colors.

The other one is the delivery. She has a style that hits upon all the right emotions, heightening suspense or prolonging the drama if she so desired. At the end of the telling, her audience was so moved that they talked of the knight as if she was their close friend, and not at all an invention of someone, most probably a poor slob desperate for their next meal.

Amadeus has little to say as compared to the others, as he had witnessed far more interesting things than someone wanting to be a knight. As they discussed the story and the characters, he sat back in silence, lost in memory. Suddenly, a thought occurred to him. “I heard that in Orlais, minstrels are often spies,” he said abruptly, cutting their discussion short as they turned to him in surprise.

A moment of silence passed as they can't decide whether he was trying to pick a fight with Leliana again or he was just making an innocent observation, since he said it in a detached voice and manner, so unlike his barbs in the past.

“Where did you hear of this?” Leliana asked him carefully, wary of his temper as the rest of them.

“I …uh…heard stories about them.”

There was collective but discreet sigh of relief. Thank the Maker the mage is not inclined today to make a sharp comment which would inevitably ruin the mood. With Loghain looking out for them and bandits or darkspawn attacking them without warning, they rarely have a night like this where they can relax. Well, he does seem less irritable and irritating as days passed. He still doesn’t talk much about himself or bond with the others but with the way things are going, it is possible he might be brought round to it. 

Their good humour was restored but not Leliana’s. “Not all minstrels are spies,” she said. Her tone was upbeat but her smile is a little thin. “Most are just singers and storytellers. But some of them are what we call bards.”

“And those are the spies?” Thorin asked, curious and unsuspecting of the effect of his question. They don’t have minstrels back in Orzammar and stories they have are treated as histories, not fiction. He was surprised to know that in some parts of the world, storytelling is an art and not just a chore.

“Bards are minstrels and more. Spies, as you say. Some say there is a bard order, but I don’t think this is true. Many bards work alone, or in small groups, doing the bidding of a patron who pays for their services. If there is an organization behind it, no one knows who they are.”

“Patron? What sort of patron?”

“Nobles mostly. In Orlais, there is much rivalry amongst the high-born. They fight over land, influence and the favor of the empress.”

He thought over this and found Orlais is not much different from home. “I would have thought they'd hire assassins,” he said, remembering how Loghain planned to get rid of them by hiring Zevran. 

She shook her head. “No. They cannot fight openly. Because it is impolite, and in public they wear smiling faces and pretend to be civil. In secret they plot and scheme to destroy each other. It is a game completely meaningless to anyone but its players.”

She was right. He found no liking for a game where people find pleasure in dishonesty. Exciting though this may be, ultimately it is not good for a society when personal gain is encouraged at the expense of others. But it is not his place to say what they can do and can’t do in their own country so he thought no more of it other than something to remember if they ever ended up in Orlais or had to work with Orlesians.  

However, Tabris does not feel the same way. He is not a deep or critical thinker; no hidden meaning can he find in someone's words or actions unless made explicitly clear to him. But that does not mean he is entirely doomed to ignorance. Now and then, moments of insight come to him. It did so now.

His suspicion was aroused as soon as Amadeus pointed out that some minstrels are bards. Thorin questioning her had left him free to observe her reactions, and warned about her withholding information, her manner had convinced him that she is not what she seems to be. Her being a minstrel combined with her accent and the reputation of Orlesians as being devious had led him to an obvious conclusion. But he waited after everyone else was preparing for bed before confronting her.

Leliana was about to go to bed when he asked if they could talk. “Yes? Something you need?”

“What you told earlier...you were a bard, weren’t you?”

She looked at him for a moment, thinking whether to bluff her way out. But she remembered she is dedicated to the Chantry now and if she really was sincere in her vocation, she would have to stop her old habits. “I have revealed too much it seems. But it doesn’t matter what I used to be. It is in the past.”

 “If you were, then why are you living in a cloister in Ferelden?”

She’s not ready to talk about that yet. “I..found myself in Ferelden and sheltered from bad weather in the Chantry. And when the storm passed I…did not want to leave. I like to say that the Maker brought me here.”

Now that he was warned, he was much more able to catch for small lies. He thought there is more to it than taking shelter after a bad storm, but he didn’t want to pry.

“Do you believe in the Maker?” she asked abruptly.

“Of course I do.”

“Then you should already know that the Maker moves in strange ways. I did not know the reason then why He brought me to the cloister, but I saw it now.”

That was the end of it. He sensed she didn’t want to talk anymore so he let her go. As he walked away, he felt disappointment creeping in. He knew he's living in a harsh world, but he still hoped that there is goodness left to strive for. Is it too much to ask that something is exactly at it seems and not another trick to lure people whose only crime is being unwise or unlucky? That they can go on with their lives without having to be mindful of being taken advantage of?

* * *

The next day, Leliana found that Tabris had not forgotten what they talked last night. He is still the merry person they knew, but his manner had significantly cooled towards her. She found that their increasing intimacy after their reunion had returned to plain civility, for he no longer go out of his way to be with her. She missed their conversation together, for talking with him has increased her confidence in herself and her faith. She knew that, though the others never said anything about it, they think of her as mad because of her claim to have a vision from the Maker. But Tabris was different, for not only did he believe her, he supported her in fulfilling it. 

She did not completely feel good about revealing everything about her past, but she thought she owed him an explanation. She felt bad when thinking about how he felt, believing in someone completely only to know that they were not telling the whole truth. Particularly when she claimed to be a sister and he thought of her as one and yet she does not act like one. The more she thought about it, the more she felt that she had to say something to him.  

He was in the rear so she slowed down until they were walking side by side. She waited after everyone else's is preoccupied before speaking. “I lied to you, you know? About why I left Orlais,” she whispered.  

He nodded, watching the others for any sign of them noticing her and him talking. “I knew you weren’t telling me everything but I didn’t want to pry.”

“I didn’t feel like talking about it then. What happened to me…maybe you should know.”

He stared ahead as he waited.

“I came to Ferelden because I was hunted in Orlais.”

“It’s related to you being a bard, isn’t it?”

“Yes, and no. I was framed, betrayed by someone I thought I knew and could trust. Marjolane, she was my mentor. And friend. She taught me the bardic arts, how to enchant with words and song, to carry myself like a high-born lady, to blend in as a servant. The skill I learned I used to serve her, my bard-master, because I enjoyed what I did.”

He remembered why she was suddenly cold when he tried to compliment her adopted parent for her skills. What a fool he is.

 She told him that she thought Marjolane remarkable, which secured her admiration and affection. This has blinded her to Marjolane’s faults as well as to the life she lived as her bard. She was so devoted to her, she would kill anyone that Marjolane told her to. Until she sent her to kill an unknown man bearing documents.  “I don’t know who this man was. She gave me a name and description, and I hunted them down. I found documents on his body-sealed documents.”

“And you opened them?”

“My curiosity got the better of me. Something told me I needed to know what was in those letters. Marjolane…had been selling all kinds of information about Orlais to other countries, Nevarra, Antiva, among others. It was treason.”

“But I thought that's what bards do.”

“Some. But I assumed that Marjolane operated within Orlais. This was an unhappy surprise to me.” Her life as a bard taught her that loyalties should be kept fluid, but she has a little patriotism left in her not to commit a treasonous act like this. However, she still loved Marjolane enough to tell her that she knew about the document and convince her not to go through with the plan. Marjolane admitted her guilt, assured her it was now in the past and asked that Leliana keep it secret and burn the document. “I believed her. I kept believing her, up till the moment they showed me the documents. Altered by her hand to make me look like a traitor.”

“She betrayed you?”

“Yes. The Orlesian guards, they captured me. Did terrible things to make me confess and reveal my conspirators. It was a traitor’s punishment I endured, and at the end of it all, all that awaited me was eternity in an unmarked grave.”

He waited as she composed herself as the memories returned. Memories of pain and torment.

“How did you get out?” he asked gently. 

“The skills Marjolane taught me were good for something, at least. I broke free when I saw the opportunity.”

“Did you go take revenge from her?”

She shook her head. “No. I did not seek her out. If she thought I was coming for her, she would’ve had me caught again. Yes, I was furious, betrayed, but what could I have against her? And so I fled to Ferelden, to the Chantry, to the Maker. Ferelden protected my person and the maker saved my soul. And this is why I am here. The real reason. No more lies between us.”

“I’m sorry. I didn’t know.”

“It’s alright. It was in the past and I chose not to dwell on it.”

“Are you going to take your revenge from her?”

“Before, I would’ve have. But now…I don’t feel the same anger and hate. She made her choice. I made mine. I chose, to be free. And so I forgive her.”

It would take a strong person to confront Marjolane and make her pay for what she has done. But it would take a stronger one to absolve her of all her crimes, no matter how horrendous it was, and move on.

He smiled at her and said “Thank you for telling me this, Leliana. I can't imagine how it must feel for you to experience all that. Other people would want payback but you're different. You're here, doing good and risking your life to save people you don't know. I'm glad I met a wonderful person like you.”

She returned the smile, his words convincing her that she could always trust him and that she does not have to hide anything from him. “Thank you, for listening and understanding.”

* * *

Alistair is on the watch that night. It was his job to look-out for danger but the night seems to be a peaceful one so he found himself watching his companions. The three mages were still practicing their magic. While Neria has little trouble learning new spells, it was not the same with Amadeus. He 's still trying to turn that bush solid, but the bush defied his wish as well as his magic, its leaves green and fluttering as if laughing at his attempts. Alistair decided he likes that bush.

Meanwhile, Tabris and Leliana were at their corner, talking. He was about to join them but when he heard snippets of their conversation, he decided it was not for his ears. In his mind, he wished the elf good luck.

Thorin was at the witch’s hut. He wondered what drove him to go there, seeing that the witch is as mean as ever. Then he realized something and was promptly horrified. Surely Thorin would not fall for someone raised in a swamp? He thought about the dwarf's behavior in the past few days for any symptoms of it but he found none.  The dwarf showed  no change in manner, no lingering looks after the witch, nor any sighs of some inner angst. And if they were all together, he doesn't seem to favor her above the others. On the whole, he was polite and courteous, no matter who he's talking to. Yes. That must be it. His courtesy must be the reason why he goes there and also why he still keeps the witch with them.

Which leaves the Dalish elf.

She was sitting before her tent, doing something as usual. Today, she was fletching her arrows, paying no attention to  everyone else. Come to think of it, he never saw her idling. She was really not joking when she said her no idling policy. Well, she is always serious. So serious that he can insult her without her catching a hint of it. Which is bad, now that he thought about it.

He still didn’t know what to feel about her. Knowing a little of her background, he understood why she was hostile to him at first. Not just him, but to all the other humans with them. But she doesn't seem to hate them all now, not trying to repulse them with a look if they so much as glance at her direction. 

She can be harsh but she meant well, if her teaching him survival skills is any indication. Despite her atrocious manners, he knew that she fights for good or else she would have left as soon as she survived the Joining. 

He looked at her, alone but doing her job without complaint, always reliable and told himself that it was silly for him to still have a grudge against her just because she was mean to him at first. Besides Duncan…Duncan would not have wanted them to be divided. They are all grey wardens now.

He decided to give her another chance. Since nothing's happening, he built up the courage to ask her if he can sit with her. She was surprised, but did not refuse. 

He noticed a book in her lap.

“What’s that about?” he said, pointing at the thing.

She only gave a small glance at it. “It was a gift from Thorin. He said it would be useful to me.”

“So what does it say?”

“I do not know.”

“Have you tried opening it?”

She still did not get sarcasm. “I did, but I have not learned to read.”

“You're saying you can’t read?” he asked, incredulous that even in this day and age there is someone who doesn't know how to read.

“It is a Keeper’s task, or her First, and I have not learned it, for I am no keeper.”

"Err...keeper? First?"

"A keeper is our leader who is also entrusted with keeping the history of our clan. A First is their apprentice and successor."

"Oh." Looking at the tattoo on her face and her strange clothes, he remembered that she was not raised in his society. This made him realize that their quarrels may not be because of her alone, but because of how they were raised. Her atrocious manners may not be due to her personality, but because of their culture. It was unfair for him to expect that she will know immediately how to act around humans right off the boat-err, forest.

“Mind if I read it for you then?” he offered, by way of compensation. 

She looked at him with wonder. “You can do that?”

“I mean I can read, but I’m not what you say a....keeper. Is that right? Keeper?”

'Yes." She handed the book to him. He looked at it to read the title. It was a manual for how to be a ranger.

He started to read it aloud though he could not understand what the book was talking about. It said something about knowing the way of the wild and Maker knows what else. It’s very nonsensical, to be honest. He did not know what the dwarf was thinking when he gave this to her.

He stopped to ask her if she understood anything and saw her expression. She was still, her eyes half-closed, like she was in a trance.

“I never dreamed I have the talent for making people sleep. Wow, I’m feeling pretty proud of myself. Some things you learn every day,” he said, taking care not to show his hurt. He believed that they could have a new start but he was wrong, for she pretends to be kind to him only to mock him later. 

“I am not sleeping. I am simply listening and remembering.”

“Oh,” he said, suprised. “Did you understand what it said? Because I don’t.”

She looked at him for a moment and started reciting, word for word, everything he had read. When she was finished, he was silent in awe. “Wow. You really remembered it all, ” was all he could say.

“We used to learn our stories by listening. This is no different.”

“Okay. But did you understand what it was saying?”

“A little. I have to think about it.”

He read some more before they called it a night.

“Thank you,” she said, as they got up to go to their tents. “This was precious to me.”

He smiled. “Aw, stop it. You’re making me blush.”

* * *

Amadeus and Tabris were out in the forest collecting firewood when the elf spotted some flowers and went to pick it, exclaiming as he did so of its virtues and how scent can remind people of home. Amadeus let him talk nonsense but thought that this Blight has gone on too long when people becomes so vapid as to talk about a flower, until Tabris let slip that the chantry sister was recently a bard. The mage became alarmed at this, even more so that the elf seems not too bothered by this revelation. The elf was too happy and too busy thinking how to carry the delicate spray with his bundle of sticks.

Amadeus thought that Leliana is just a typical person from the Chantry: delusional, fanatical and utterly dumb, for who in their right mind would follow a god so petty he rejected his first children for being unimaginative and abandoned the second for being gullible? She is….yes, now that he remembered, she is suspiciously bland. If it wasn’t for the occasional bleating about the Maker, they would have forgotten she was with them. And now that Tabris told him about her, he knew why it was so.

When the elf exclaimed they were lucky to have her there and that she was glad to be with them, he told him exactly what he thought.

“She’s a bard! Of course she will say that, right before she slits your throat.”

Tabris frowned at him. “You’re wrong about that.  She's not going to do that anymore. She was trying to atone for all the things she had done in her past. And you know what? Let’s not make it harder for her as it is. She was given a second chance to start again and here we are not letting her. Besides, we of all people should know how it is to be given a second chance.”

He looked askance at him and knew the reason for his rather spirited defense of her. “You like her, don’t you?”

He smiled, laughing at himself for being so obvious. He shrugged. “What’s there not to like about her?” 

Amadeus decided not to answer that. "And what makes you think she'll like you back?"

"I think we’re good together. One, because I have reach while she has dexterity.”

Amadeus stopped walking to stare at the elf. “You’re not going to stop making that joke, are you?”

“Of course! It’s a classic.”


	82. Chapter 82

As they were marching, Tabris caught up to Leliana. “Hey,” he greeted, walking alongside her.

“Oh, hello. Did you need something?” she asked.

“Nothing. Look, I just found some of these and I wonder if you can help me know what these are?” He held out a spray of small, white flowers to her.

“Oh, how lovely,” she said, taking in the sight of the beautiful flowers.

“Maybe it will help if you smell them.”

She did as he asked and smiled. “These are…Andraste’s Grace. My mother’s favorite. Oh, I haven’t seen these in such a long time. They smell just like my mother used to.”

“Oh, then. It’s yours now.”

She looked up at him. “Oh no. I can’t take this. I’m sure you have someone to give this to.”

“I do. She’s right in front of me.”

 A slow smile appeared on her lips as she understood what he just said. “Thank you. They’re beautiful. Thank you so much, for remembering.”

“Well, you’re not that easy to forget.” This slipped before he could really thought about it and when it did, he lost his nerve and with an embarassed murmur of “See you around” he dashed away.

* * *

“Nice book?”

Morrigan looked up from her reading to find Thorin close to her. It's been a few days since the dwarf was coming to her tent to talk, she noticed. Not that it was unwelcome; he is intelligent enough as compared to the others (mostly those whose names start with A) as to make his company enjoyable.  

She closed the book and sighed. “No, tis book is not in any way nice. It is maddening, as far as anything of Flemeth’s goes. It is written in such a way as to be read as nonsensical and yet I know there are hidden meanings in it only if I know how to read it. I have spent many days transcribing the writings on this book and so far, its content eludes me.”  

“But you’re her daughter. She didn’t tell you how to read it even though you might inherit it someday?”

She smirked at him. “How little you know. No, she is not the type to give away her belongings as this “inheritance” and I doubt she has any plans of dying anytime soon. And it is just like her to complicate everything. She always does like her little games,” she said, stroking the cover of the grimoire.

Thorin stared at her as he processed this. She saw his expression and chuckled. “Come. Do tell what bothers you so.”

“I can’t help but suspect that she didn’t just send you with us out of the goodness of her heart.”

“You’re not as foolish as the others.”

“Thanks, I think.”

“Yes, she did not let me join you out of selfless concern. What her real reasons are, I myself do not know.”

“If you knew this, why are you telling me?”

“I have no doubt she would’ve thought you would learn about this and she would have included this in her offer of help to you. Alas, we must be content with what she said; that the Blight threatens us all.”  

“You speak of her as if she doesn’t care much about you.”

“ _ _If she doesn’t care about me__? Please, do tell how she doesn’t care about me.”

“I would’ve expected she would be forthright with you, if not with us.”

“Ah, but you do not know Flemeth. She would not have let it be so easy when I can learn more from it. The world is a dangerous place and treacherous; what better way to teach that than to show it herself? I have seen what other mothers do, where they tuck their children to sleep each night and give them a kiss if they scraped their knee. I could only laugh. Such children would grow up to be the people who begs strangers to save them or else swindled by those who knew better. No, I know enough of the world to know that Flemeth is right, no matter how treacherous she may be.”

“Surely there are other ways to grow up without resorting to that.”

“Such as yours?” she asked, cocking her head and with a little smile on her lips. “I wonder, how did your mother brought you up?”

“She died a long time ago. She’s strict, but fair as befits someone from the warrior caste. She lets us learn through our mistakes but doesn’t hesitate to support us if we needed it. Through her I learned disciplne, order and how to be just.”

 “I see,” she commented, looking surprised and a little discomposed to know that such a person can produce someone like him without resorting to Flemeth’s ways. “Your mother must be a delightful woman.”

“She is.”

They did not speak for a while, Morrigan rendered silent by such a novel experience and Thorin by the memory of his mother whom he had not thought about in years. At last, she shook herself out of her reverie and asked the thing weighing heavily on her mind. “I have noticed your doings for sometime. Your companions and the other Wardens are perfectly content to let me be and I agree. And yet, here you are, speaking to me of trifling things. You must have a reason to persist so.”

“I try to have my group be welcoming as much as possible.”

“How very generous of you. But I need not your concern. I care not how I am percieved by others and I can make myself comfortable without help.”

“Do you want me not to go here and talk to you anymore?”

“That is not what I meant. You can come and go as you please. You are welcome here, as long as you do not prove to be an annoyance.”

“How about our companions?”

“They are welcome too, though I will not count on it.”

“And I think the feeling is mutual. The others don’t trust you and think you’re dangerous.”

“So far, they are right. They’re not so dim after all. And what do you think?”

He is still unsure of her intentions, even more so when she revealed her mother’s character for him. So he answered the thing he is very sure of. “I think you’re a lovely young woman, Morrigan.”

She laughed. “So, you do have a reason to talk to me, after all. You need not scheme no longer. You may just ask. Tis only natural to have such feelings towards me.”

“Er, I was only stating the obvious. I didn’t mean the way you think it is.”

“Tis so? And here I thought I can finally share my bedroll with a handsome man.”

Thorin looked at her differently when he understood what she was saying. “You want me to sleep with you?”

“Does it sound so strange? Yes, I want you here with me. I find the night is too cold for me to sleep alone and I would rather have you to warm me.”

Thorin considered her offer. “If you’re cold, just get a thicker blanket.”

“Very well-”

“No, I’m joking,” he said quickly, smiling a little “because I thought you’d never ask.”

* * *

Later that night, when everyone else had gone to sleep, Leliana decided to cut the elf out of his misery.

He was putting away his armor after polishing when he looked up and saw her approach. His ears turned red and he dropped it all on his feet, sending them both scrambling for it with many “let me help” and “No, it’s fine.” After they had put away all the pieces, she tried again.

 “You know, it has been sometime since I left Lothering. When I stepped out the cloister, I had no idea where my path would lead. I walked where the Maker led me and..” Sh looked up at him “He has rewarded me for my faith. I found you.”

H colored and said “You’re saying the Maker sent me to you, like a gift?” It seems his near hanging and subsequent rescue by Duncan is making sense now.

“Something like that. The Maker wants his children to be happy. Would he have created a capacity for love if he did not intend us to find it?”

“Wait…are you saying what I think you’re saying?”

“I do.”

He smiled. “Then I thank the Maker for bringing us together.”

“You don’t know how it makes me feel to hear you say that. But now, it’s getting late. I think I might turn in early. I can’t keep thinking how soft and warm my bedroll is.”

“Oh” His face fell with disappointment. It was just getting good and he wanted to talk to her more. “Well, don’t let me keep you. Good night.” He started to turn away.

“Wait! What are you going to do?”

“Oh, I’m going to stay up for a while,” he answered. Maybe write about our adventures? You know we’re going to be famous after all this is over, right? Someone has to get all the details right.”  

She laughed. “You are right. Maybe you can write it in my tent. I could give you suggestions.”

“Alright, go on.”

She mimicked holding a pen and writing. “Dear Diary; Leliana has shown much affection for me. She has asked me to come to bed with her but alas subtlety is lost on me.”

He blushed when he understood what she was trying to say. “Really? Are you sure? I-wow, I don’t really-well, I like to sleep in your tent, but wow-”

“Oh Maker! Just kiss me!”

* * *

Nearby, Mahariel and Alistair were arguing about some of the phrases the elf heard at their time in human cities which had puzzled her deeply.

“Nipped it in the butt,” she recited.

“Nipped it in the __bud,__ ” he corrected, trying to stifle his laugh.

“Blessing in the skies.”

“Blessing in __disguise__.”

She looked askance at him, confused as to how anything hidden could be a blessing. Surely if it was good, then there is no need for it to be concealed? She decided to move on and ask him about it later. “Alright. How about this one :Get back on the whores.”

Alistair could not keep a straight face. “Stop! Stop. I can’t take this anymore,” he said, before giving full way to a hearty laughter. Mahariel only looked despondently on her lap, her ears drooping. “This would be easier if you just say what you mean.”

“It woudn’t be very fun, you know,” he answered after he finished rolling in laughter.

“Do you not separate enjoyment from communication? Mixing the two would surely result to misunderstanding.”

“No. I think everyone understands each other very well. Don’y you have these in your clan? Like threw someone under the…aravel? Don’t look a gift hors-halla in the mouth?”

“Anyone foolish enough to do that to the halla gets their nose bitten off.”

“Bad halla.”

She smiled. “Yes, they may look like beautiful creatures but they are actually bad-tempered beasts.”

“Now I’m curious. Did anyone try that? Get their nose bitten off part?”

“Ah, no. It was someone’s butt.”

“Err..someone’s butt?”

“It belongs to a hunter who stood too close to a halla pen. The halla thought he was their herder, and when he did not try to feed it, it became very angry and bit him right through his pants. When the wound healed, it left a big hole.”

“His mother might have given him a name, but we never knew it, for we always refer to him as Dimplecheeks.”

They went silent then burst out laughing. After Alistair had his fill, he asked “So seriously, you never had one?”

“The keeper is fond of proverbs.”

“Jokes?”

“Why? Would it scare the bandits off?”

“No, but it makes scaring them off much more…fun?”

She stared at him then decided to trust him. ‘Fine. The I will learn these…jokes,” she said, with a face suited to facing down a cavalry charge.

Alistair looked very fondly at the very serious elf who is intent in knowing human manners. Nevermind that she starts it by butchering every human saying she comes across. “Ah, just stick around me. You’ll get the hang of it.”

* * *

When they were out gathering firewood, Amadeus was looking oddly at Tabris. The elf was more airheaded than usual, obliviously picking up more green sticks and unaware of doing so. He knew the reason for this as news traveled fast in the camp and since he didn’t like the elf’s object of affection, he expressed his objections concerning them.   

“Your preference for human women is disturbing,” he said, making the elf snap out of his daydream. “Is this an effect of your faith?”

“What?” Tabris asked, blinking at him.

“Your slavering adoration of Andraste. And your preference for human women.”

“You think those two are connected?”

“Yes, I suspect it is.”

Tabris shrugged. “I just like curvy women. You have a problem with me liking human women?”

“No. I only wished to know how far those Chantry fools had gotten into you.”

“Huh. Didn’t know you were so concerned for me.” A pause as he thought this through. “Wait…….you are concerned for me.”

“Far from it.”

“Yes, you are!”

“No.”

“Yes you are!”

“Fine. Yes. Congratulations. Now stop bothering me.”

“You started it,” said he, chuckling.

“And I’m finishing it.”


	83. Chapter 83

“Darkspawn ahead,” Alistair announced. There were darkspawn arrayed before them in ambush, hurlocks blocking the road, archers on both sides and behind barricades and an Ogre in the forefront. The creatures saw them and charged, yelling guttural cries. The ogre roared in challenge.

The warriors charged and the battle was joined. As they engaged the Ogre, Neria used the spell Amadeus taught her, and summoned a blizzard on the archers. Then she summoned another lightning storm on the archers at the other side, thinking that those fighting in the middle won’t be caught in it. However, she misjudged the distance. The two storms touched and created a powerful storm of lighting and hail, bigger than its predecessors, decimating friends and foe alike.

“Fall back! Fall Back!” Thorin dragged a frozen Alistair, his beard filled with icicles. He winced as a bolt shot near him, his nose filing with ozone and the smell of burnt hair. As they stumbled away from the storm, he thought idly that all those unpleasant smells must mean that his nose hasn't been frozen off. 

 The others weren’t so lucky.

Tabris was nearest the ogre when the huge storm hit. He was frozen solid, staring helplessly to the others as they shouted his name. A blinding light filled his eyes-

-and his heart broke into pieces.

* * *

As the storm raged on, Amadeus remembered the conversation he had with the being back at the Fade during the failed rebellion at Kinloch.

“So do you understand?” the spirit asked Amadeus after giving the knowledge of navigating the demon’s realm to save his companions. He only gaped in surprise that the being would actually offer to help him without demanding something in return.

“Am I to believe you’re giving this for free?" he asked, not truly believing that the spirit had no hidden trick behind its offer. "Even though you’ve said everything has a price?”

“I still hold what I’ve said to be true. But I did not say you will be the one paying the price,” the spirit answered. “My pact with you will consume my power, and I may completely fade away if you used too much. But still, I am willing to help you in your quest.”

He looked at it for a while, unable to decide whether or not it was telling the truth. “Why are you doing this?”

The spirit brightened as if it was smiling at the question. “Because this is what I am," it said simply. As it rose up and floated away, it parted one last advice to him. "Carry me always, and no burden will feel too heavy, or a path too dark to tread.”

Well, he’s asking the spirit to help him now.

* * *

The hurricane rained death on everything on its path and zapping those trying to escape. If it didn’t stop their hearts immediately, it left its victims twitching, unable to move properly, as a freezing wind tore through their skin and seeped into their bones. They died as they stood, while those lucky enough not to get hit fought their way out of the blinding cold.

Thorin would have searched for Neria but as the darkspawn had also come out with them, he swung his ax at them instead.

Then Amadeus stepped forward into the storm.

“Amadeus! Stop! You’ll die!” Leliana shouted at him. 

Amadeus only put up a shield before he stepped in.

Alistair stumbled out the blizzard, his knees buckling. A darkspawn was at his heels and it raised its sword for a deathblow. Leliana shot at it, the arrow sprouting in its throat. She dragged him away from the howling wind while Wynne ran forward to attend to him.

When they have killed the darkspawn who escaped with them, a snowy figure emerged. It was Amadeus, snow on top his shield, dragging Tabris' body behind him. They ran forward to help him carry the corpse and lay it down on the grass.

Leliana held the head on his lap as Wynne checked for a pulse. She dropped her hands from the neck, looked up at Leliana's expectant face, and slowly shook her head. Neria came close, white faced, as she looked upon the body of her friend. Alistair was well enough wand joined them, gazing silently at the corpse. At last, Thorin finished killing the stragglers and stood beside them. in that awful moment, they didn't know what to do now with one of them dead. 

Amadeus, however, shooed them away.

“He’s dead. Amadeus. We can’t do anything for him now,” Leliana said to him, her tears falling, as he knelt and checked the body. He ignored her and waved his staff over it. The body stayed still.

Alistair laid a hand on the mage’s shoulder. “Stop it, Amadeus. You’ve done a good job getting him out but he’s…he’s…”

He ignored him too, and commenced slapping the corpse’s cheek.

“What do you think you’re doing?” Leliana demanded, standing up. “I know you hate most of us but that’s no reason to-”

“Get off me!”

Tabris had kicked Amadeus, which sent the healer sprawling on his back. The others stared as Tabris looked around, bewildered. It seems he was back again. In hell.

“Finally. I was going to let Alistair breath on you, but it seems you remembered how lungs work,” the healer said, standing up and beating the dirt off his clothes.

Tabris wrinkled his nose. “Can’t you find anyone prettier to do that?”

“There’s always Bodahn’s ass.”

Alistair was too glad at seeing him alive to be insulted and expressed his relief at seeing him still among them. Tabris could not answer as he was hugged by Leliana and cheered by his companions. Suffice it to say, Tabris was not affected much by his recent experience with death, and in fact made jokes about it. It just made him a little jumpy afterwards.

Thorin allowed them a little while to have a reunion then quietly told Amadeus and Neria to talk with him away from the others. Amadeus took one long look at the people celebrating, then followed the dwarf.  When they were sufficiently out of earshot, Thorin rounded on Neria. “What just happened?” he asked her while struggling to contain his fury. She, however, looks more frustrated than guilty.

“I don’t know. It’s not my fault,” she answered.

“You don’t know? How can you not know? You’re a mage.”

“Yeah well, those idiots at the tower didn’t teach me enough.”

“That nearly killed us all, ” he insisted.

“I swear I didn’t want to kill anyone. I was just aiming for the archers.”

“And how is it that it killed Tabris?”

 “She really didn’t know anything about this,” Amadeus cut in, giving her a reprieve. Neria shot him a quizzical look.

“And why are you sure about that?” Thorin asked him.

“Because I didn’t know either.” Neria rolled her eyes and mouthed “humbug”

“Alright, what was that supposed to mean?”

Amadeus explained that something with the spell enhancing spellpower made those two storm combine, producing a bigger storm with both of its powers. Thorin accepted this explanation and told Neria to more careful and warn them if she was going to make one again. He asked Amadeus if that was the end of it and the mage replied that there are possibly more combinations to be found.

“Like the one you used to bring Tabris back to life?”

Amadeus replied that that was different. Then he told the dwarf about spirits, and how some of the benevolent ones can inhabit a living body without turning the person evil, unlike demons. They also had the ability to return a soul to their vessel, if it was made whole again. And also, Wynne has a spirit within herself.

Thorin’s head was spinning by the time he was done explaining. “So, you are saying there’s a….spirit, working with both of you right now?”

He nodded.

“And you can talk to them, tell them to revive the dead?”

“Only within a certain time. After that, no spell can bring back the dead, except necromancy.”

That was the dwarf’s limit. He had a hard time believing about spirits possessing the living. Now he doesn’t want to think about spirits reviving corpses, especially if it were the ones he killed.

“Alright. Anything more that I should know?”

Amadeus shook his head. “I’ll let you know if I found out more.”

Thorin looked at the two mages. He did not know much about magic and so let them use it as they saw fit, but he trusted that they knew what they were doing. Yet here they are just knowing what their magic are capable of.  “They really didn’t teach you enough at the Circle, did they?”

Amadeus nodded, for if the Chantry found out Neria can destroy an entire army by herself while he can revive the dead with the help of a spirit, they would be the first on the block. Fortunately for them, the dwarf had no hang-ups about testing the limits of magic. He just cautioned them to be careful and to teach Neria to control her powers. 

* * *

Somewhere in the foot of the Frostbacks, Thorin and the others were pouring their map. They’ve been traveling in circles for a few days now because not one of them can read a surface map. In frustration, Mahariel set off in the direction where they think Haven is located. As they were arguing about where exactly Haven is, they heard a familiar barking.

“Ser Barker?” Tabris asked, surprised to see the dog back too soon. The dog barked in confirmation and bounded forward to meet them. They were happy to see him but also puzzled as to why he had returned without his mistress.

After getting his expected rubs and pat on his head, the dog walked towards Thorin and stopped in front of him. Then he craned his neck.

“I think he wants you to take off his collar,” Alistair interpreted for him.

“You speak dog?” the dwarf asked him.

“Among my many talents, yes. Me and him used to talk at camp about how things are going. Very riveting stuff. You should join us sometimes.”

“No thanks.”  He figured he’d officially be mad if he starts talking to the dog now. But he did as Alistair said, and as the dog bounded away to play with Neria, he thought about why Elissa would send back her dog to them.

That’s when he noticed a piece of paper sticking on the underside of the collar he’s holding. He pried it off and opened it. It was a note signed by Elissa.

_Thorin,_

_We’re in Orzammar and I’m sorry  but your father’s dead. We can't get help from the treaties because your people needed a king.  So we're forced to chose between two candidates: Lord Harrowmont and your brother Bhelen. Worse, Brosca thought we should support your brother! You don’t really mean to have him as king, do you? Please send a reply as soon as possible._

_Elissa Cousland_


	84. Chapter 84

They had just returned from the Aeducan thaig where Lord Helmi had gone in order to deliver the letters to him. Their arrival was fortunate, for a day later and the lord and his men would have been routed by the darkspawn who intended to make a home in the thaig. Lord Helmi was grateful for their help, even moreso when they handed the letters to him, revealing that Lord Harrowmont was going to swindle him. He swore that he will never again trust a word of Lord Harrowmont and promised that come election, Bhelen can count on him. Satisfied, the wardens let him stew in his rage and went with haste to report their success to the prince.

They met Vartag, who upon hearing the news, told them to wait in the hall for the prince’s answer. As they waited, they met the first person who was genuinely happy to see them.

“Rica!” Brosca said as he hugged his sister. She gave a cry of delight when he swept her off the floor.

He released her and Rica stepped back, looking him over. “I can’t believe it! I heard the Grey Wardens came to Orzammar and I couldn’t help but hope…” She put her hands on each side of his cheek. “Look at you! My brother, the returning hero,”she said, beaming with pride at her sibling everyone believed would end up as another body on the streets.

He grinned. “Ye ain’t done worse yerself,” he said, looking at her dress. “Whadaya doin here, in the palace? And how ye got these baubles?” he asks as he lifted a heavy necklace made of precious stones. His sister was attired in a dress made of topsider cloths and wear bracelets on both hands. Her hair was styled up to reveal diamond earrings on both ears. She looked so beautiful than he remembered. Except for the tattoo on her face, anyone would have mistaken her to be a noble.

“It’s a long story, brother. I-” she finally noticed his companions. “Are they your friends?”

“Ah. Aye. She’s a warden, like yer brother,” he said as he pointed at Elissa, “and the two wanna help us.” He introduced his sister to them and them to her.

Elissa smiled warmly at Rica and said “A pleasure to meet you.” Rica giggled, pleased at being addressed like a noble. Even the palace servants wouldn’t let her forget where she came from. “I’m sure you want to spend time with your brother. Now, I think Zevran, you owe me and Sten a tour of the room?” she asked the elf.

 “What? When did I promise that?”

Elissa only linked her arm on his and Sten and led them away from the siblings.

 “I like them, especially her. She’s so…she’s so nice and graceful and everything,” hen they were out of earshot, Rica said

“Aye, she is. Now, tell yer brother everything.”

 “Remember when I told you that I have caught someone? That someone is none other than Prince Bhelen.”

“What?” A prince and their boss’ brother?

“It’s true. He made me his royal concubine. You don’t know how happy he’s made me after you were gone.”

Brosca looked at his sister, her cheeks flushed, her skin glowing and know exactly how happy the prince made her.

His sister told him how after his recruitment, he took her under his protection after Jarvia took control of the Carta. They would have gone after her, as revenge for Brosca killing Beraht, but Bhelen found her first and hidden her away in the palace.  Then she had more good news to him.

“You’re going to be an uncle,” she announced.

“Yer gonna hava baby?” Brosca asked, his jaw hanging open. Now that he knew he noticed she was..plumper than he remembered. She was glowing too, but he thought it was due to good spirits and good food.

“Yes, it doesn’t show yet, but I hope it’s a boy,” she said, smoothing her dress over her stomach. “It’d be a wonderful to present Prince Bhelen with his heir, after all he has done for me and mother. But he says he doesn’t care if it’s a girl, because he’ll love it all the same.”  

Brosca couldn’t speak, too overawed by one good fortune after another. When he thought of something to say, Vartag reappeared and called to say that the prince was ready to meet them. Rica kissed her brother goodbye and said that she would like to know more about his companions and their adventures.

When they saw the prince, they all thought the same thing: he looked nothing like his brother. He was fair compared to Thorin’s dark complexion, and his eyes were pale blue to his brother’s sapphire eyes. Even their personalities are different, for Thorin’s presence assured trust while something lurked behind Bhelen’s smiles.

“It is good to meet the famous Grey Wardens at last. I trust you have not met too much difficulty of the task given to you?” he said, with disarming lightness as he talked about misleading two nobles with a forgery.

Brosca did not answer so Elissa did for them. “We came here not to settle the succession of Orzammar but to enforce these treaties that your city is obliged to provide,”she said, unwilling to say to his face her true feelings about decieving people to win the throne. Besides, she already did what she could when she sent Ser barker out.

 “Ah, but unfortunately, I cannot help you at this time. You see, these treaties were made with the King of Orzammar, and only the king has the power to send out troops to aid you. I would have been the one to do that, and been glad to do it, but certain.….individuals have questioned my right to rule, as if it wasn’t my birthright. It wounds my pride, but what could I do?”

“I’m sorry but I heard people speak that you murdered your elder brother, the rightful heir, and then framed it on your second brother, who was exiled.”

Bhelen waved a hand, like waving away a bad smell. “Gossips. Low-class talk against their betters, born out of envy and spite. There are always people who will slander the good names of someone just because of his success. I am sure some of those were said by the supporters of Lord Harrowmont?”

 It wasn’t but Elissa thought it smart not to reveal to Bhelen that Thorin was alive and said that yes, they heard it from Lord Harrowmont’s camp.

“Lord Harrowmont,” Bhelen said, pausing as if saying the name gives him pain. “He was a long-time advisor of my father, do you know? I have always respected him and thought him a good example of an honorable dwarf. I am confused and hurt that he would say those baseless accusations, when I am grieving for the loss of my brothers and my father, King Endrin. As if the tragedy that befell my house isn’t enough.” There was a pause as he gathered his thoughts. Then he continued.  “He was with my father the whole time when he fell ill. He wouldn’t even let me see him. When my father died, he accused me of conspiring for the death of one brother and the exile of the other. Then he announced his intention to be King, against me. Me, the only one left from a house who had faithfully served Orzammar for hundreds of years.”

“I understand. But is there any truth to his words?”

Bhelen looked at her, then said “Do you have any siblings, Warden Elissa?”

Elissa hesitated. “Yes. A brother,” she said slowly.

“Would you have killed your own brother?”

Elissa paused, not sure what to answer. “No.”

“Do you see now? There is nothing so unnatural as to killing your own flesh and blood. Yet Lord Harrowmont insists I was capable of that and more.”

“I thought I heard…that the reason your brother was exiled because he killed the heir.”

“My brother, Trian, the one who was killed. He was…he was always difficult to be with and he used to fight a lot with my other brother, Thorin. They were both strong-willed men. They were seen to have quarreled before a campaign to honor Thorin. I did not know how Thorin could kill Trian but maybe…maybe that day, they took their quarrel too far.”

The Warden group stayed silent.

“Belive none of the rumors you hear about me,” Bhelen continued. “They are slanders against an honorable house, to discredit its only surviving member, the one true king of Orzammar.”         

“Whaddye want?” Brosca finally said.

Bhelen was surprised at his brusqueness but said “You’ve seen Orzammar for yourself: the city is a slaughterhouse. Criminals run lawless. In my bid for kingship, I wish its citizens to be free of such chaos. The cause of it all is a local crime group in Dust Town called the Carta, led by a woman named Jarvia. Eliminate them, and I will greatly be in your debt.”

“Aye, I know what the carta is,” Brosca said, rising. The others rose too, intuiting that the conference with the prince is finished. “Ye wait outside. I gotta talk with the prince,” he said to the others.

When they were alone, Brosca took his seat and turned to Bhelen. “Ye know me?”

“I heard from your sister. I must say, I am proud to have a brother in so honorable an order as the Grey Wardens.”

“Nugshit. Ye can talk fancy to others, but I ain’t no fool.”

Bhelen’s face lost its cultivated appearence. “So, you want direct replies then? Fine I can do that,” he said coldly.

 “Donna get mad,” he said, raising his hands up.” Am just sayin ye donna try to be all nice and shit with me. Ye and I both know yer one of us.”   

“Excuse me?”

“Donna pretend ye wanna kill Jarvia because ye say ye want dem people happy. Ye wanna kill her because she’s gonna blab about yer business with ‘em Carta if yer not gonna pay ‘em to shut her trap. Don wanna be king with dem askin fer favors, are ye?”

 Bhelen looked at him, displeasure in every feature in his face. “If you dare say those words in public, I will have you killed, brother to Rica or not.”

Brosca laughed. “That’s more like it. Am just gonna say, threat or no, Imma kill her for you.”

“I’m glad we have an agreement then. Now, is there anything else you want to ask?”

“Aye.” Brosca leaned forward. “Rica.”

“Ah. Typical protective elder brother. I should have expected that.”

“Ye mean true by her?”

“I thought Rica would have told you how I protected her and your mother from the Carta for your murder of Beraht?”   

 “Aye, she did. But I wanna see for meself if ye say true. If ye meant that yer not gonna throw her away if she didna give ye a boy?”

“I meant what I said. She will still be my consort even if she gave birth to a daughter.”

 Brosca looked at Bhelen as he said it. Then he leaned back to his chair. “I ain’t gonna say nay to you.”

“Then, our business is concluded.”

“If ye were lyin, imma come for you. Me…with yer brother.”

Bhelen gripped the arms of his chair in shock. “Thorin…is alive? I thought he died in the Deep Roads.”

“Nah. He’s a warden, same as me. Duncan found him wanderin’ and took him in.”

Bhelen recovered his composure. “A Warden,” he said in his usual tone. “Then he can’t stop me. He has already forfeited his claim to the throne. ”

“Aye, but just say he’s gonna back someone up and ye end up with nothin. People like him and ye know it. And he be hard to kill for yer thugs.”

“Where is he now?” he demanded.

“He know nothin ‘bout yer father dyin and Harrowmont stoppin ye from bein king. He sent me here with the treaties ‘cause he thought it’s gonna be hard gettin help from Orzammar if he did it. Although” he said, looking at the prince “he’s gonna know everythin if ye lied.”

Bhelen narrowed his eyes at the duster. “You have a lot of nerve threatening a prince.”

“Ye and I woulda need “lot of nerve”, or we ain’t gonna get what we want.” Brosca said as he stood up. “Treat me sister right, and ye won’t gonna hear from me and him.”

“As if I don’t do so already.” Bhelen rose up and stood. “It’s a pleasure doing business with you.”

* * *

Outside, Elissa was fuming, Zevran was smiling and Sten was being himself, as usual. They were silent for a time, then Elissa decided to vent her feelings.

“Oh! How dare he be so…so…affable! I can’t believe he’s the one who did those things to to his own family!” she exclaimed.

“I thought him quite charming,” Zevran said. “I see him and think here’s a man who brings a lot of business.”

Elissa snorted. “Of course you would think that.” Still irritated, she turned to the giant, who was silently looking their surroundings as usual. “Aren’t you going to say something?”

“No.”

“Nevermind.”  

They didn’t have long to wait, for Brosca emerged from the palace and said he knew someone who could tell them where the elusive Carta’s hideout is. So off they went to Dust Town, where they saw where the casteless live and endure.

It is a town steeped in misery. On every side of the road stood dilapidated houses, its roofs crumbling in ruin, where they heard screams and animal shouts from the inhabitants therein. The air was thick with the smell of refuse and waste. Some dwarves looked up at them as they approached and eyed them, like feral cats who had sighted prey. Here and there lay dwarves who are either drunk into insensibility or are lying in a pool of their own blood. Both had their pockets turned inside out.

“Ye be careful. Donna look dem in the eye or show yer afraid of them.” Brosca warned them, mostly for Elissa’s benefit. A dwarf came out of the shadows, a malicious glint in his eyes, but Brosca glared at him and the man backed away.

They reached a house and Brosca knocked. They heard someone inside curse and the door flew open. A disheleved dwarf stood in the doorway, holding something behind his back.

“Yer not Leske,” Brosca said.

“Sure ain’t.” The door slammed close.

 Elissa heard a cry for help. Turning, she saw a woman on her side, begging for a few coppers to tide her for a day. One of her leg lay in an odd angle.

 “Brosca, look, she’s crippled. Stop. I’ll just give some coin to that poor woman,” Elissa said as she walked toward the beggar but Brosca caught her arm and held her back. The dwarf went to her himself and stood in front of the criple.

“Shut yer moanin. I know yer just as good as stab someone even with that bad leg.”

The woman scowled at Brosca. “A duster.” She narrowed her eyes at him and remembered. “You’re the one who got away with ‘em Wardens, ain’t it? Whaddya want?” she said, as she took a flask from her pouch and took a swig, never taking her eyes off them.

“I wanna know where dem Carta is.”

The woman stared at him.

“Ye know where dey at?”

The woman looked him over, then his companions. “Maybe,” she finally said.

Brosca tossed a coin which the woman deftly caught. She looked at it, bit it and stowed it in somewhere in her dirty clothes. “I don’t know where the Carta is now. But I know someone who does.” She gave directions to a house somewhere deep in the town.

As they were walking to the house, Elissa turned to the dwarf. “How do you know she’s not…helpless?” Brosca told her that she was a Carta thug like him, but a bad job had broken her leg and the group cast her off. She did not threw herself in the lava or drunk herself to death as they expected but instead turned the skills she learned at the crime group, collecting gossips she heard while begging and trading them while milking the sympathies of people such as Elissa.

 They reached the house and Brosca knocked once more. The door opened and a dark-haired dwarf greeted them. “Well chew me up and swallow me whole! I’ve never thought to see you back here!” the dwarf said, tapping Brosca on the shoulders.  

“A friend of yours?” Zevran asked Brosca, amused.

“Aye.”

“Look at you,” the dwarf continued, holding Brosca by the shoulders. “A filthy duster, now a grey warden. What happened? Why are you here? You miss gettin spit on?”

“Nah. Say, you got booze ‘round here? Gimme one and imma tell ye all about it.”

So they were crammed into the house. Brosca introduced them as Leske and the dwarf grinned at them as he introduced them to him. There, they sampled authentic home-brewed dwarven ale and discovered many ways to cough, as they listened to the two dwarfs exchange stories about what they had been doing after their separation. When they run out of stories to tell, Brosca let his friends chuckle fade away before asking him what they really came for. “Ye know I didna just come to see ye.”

Leske took another drink and silently set the mug on the table.

“I wanna know where Jarvia is.”

Leske whistled, a low sound of warning. “This ain’t good. You know she wants to kill you for killing Beraht. I’ve been hidin since you were gone, but she may already know where you at.”

“That’s why I keep lookin for her. Imma make her meet her lover.”

He chuckled. “You’re one crazy dwarf. Alright, this is where she’s at.” Leske told him that the Carta had moved in Brosca’s old home. Then the dwarf told him to let him know if they had taken care of Jarvia.

When the group headed out, Zevran asked him, still smiling. “I know he was an old friend of yours, my friend but many things has happened during your time apart. Do you actually trust his information?”

 The dwarf shrugged and said “We ain’t gotta choice, though I trust him as I trust ye not to stab me back.”

“I’m hurt. I thought we were friends.”

“Ye think a lotta things.”


	85. Chapter 85

 Leske led them to an ambush. He did not put a lot of thought into it, as he sent common thugs to deal with them. Brosca got the true location of the hideout by threatening one survivor, then would have killed him, had not Elissa pleaded with him to set him free.

So off they went to an abandoned-looking house, where they fought waves and waves of Carta thugs inside twisting tunnels. They cleared each and every one of the rooms, not sparing even Jarvia’s pet brontos. They reached the last room and went in, where their target with her lackeys was waiting for them, together with a former friend.

Jarva crossed her arms and glowered at them all. “If it isn’t our little runaway. Came back to finish the job?” she asked Brosca spitefully. 

“Aye. But ye gotta wait. I gotta talk with me man,” Brosca said then turned to Leske. “Leske, ye son of a nug. Whaddye think yer doin, sellin me out?

“What was I supposed to do?” Leske said, looking at him with resentment. “You were gone and Jarvia’s pullin the strings. We ain’t got your luck.”

“I was gone ‘cause ye said ye gonna take care of me sister!” Brosca roared at him. 

 “You ain’t here! You didn’t know what happened," Leske shouted back. "When Beraht died, Jarvia came out on top. She’s got the swords, she’s got the coin and she’s got the bed where I sleep,” Leske said. Brosca searched for any sign of regret Leske might have felt in breaking a promise to his former friend, but found none.

“If you were here, you’ve done the same,” Leske said, in a weary tone Brosca knew need no more explanation. He knew what people are capable of when at the end of their rope. That does not mean he will accept it. Leske chose Jarvia inspite of them. He made his bed; now let him lie on it. 

Brosca rubbed his head. “Leske…” he started. “Yer stupid, but I didna know how stupid ye are until now. Ye coulda gone with Rica, lived like dem fancy nobles, but ye always look fer someone to tell ye what to do, ain’t ye?”

 Leske opened his mouth to reply but Jarvia ran out of patience. “Enough talk! Now that you’re here, you’re all going to die,” she hissed as she drew her daggers. “Leave the chatty one alive! He is mine!”

* * *

The Carta fought as hard as they could but still they lost. Jarvia was hard to kill, fighting like a cornered animal, but Brosca swung his sword and she was dead. Seeing her fall, the fight went out of the others and they tried to run, only to be stabbed in their backs.  

Brosca shook Leske out, surprised that his blow had not killed the duster. Eventually, his former friend awoke and found himself surrounded by bodies of his comardes.

“Soddin hell! You killed them all!” Leske cried, his hands in his hair, as he looked at what remained of the Carta and of Jarvia.

“Aye,” Brosca said as he rested his hands on the hilt of his battle ax and looked down at Leske. “Now what are ye gonna do with ye?”

Leske went down on his knees and pleaded with him. “ Spare me. I was wrong! Yes I was stupid! But I know now! I ain’t gonna do somethin like this again. Please, have mercy, for old times sake?”

“Ah, ye made a bad bet, runnin with her. Ye were always a soddin lousy gambler.”

“Yes! I was wrong, and I’m sorry! Let me go, and I’ll never do this again.”

“Aye, yer not doin this again. Cause ye see, Bhelen donna like witnesses.”

Leske looked at him, puzzled, but Brosca’s ax swept through and his head flew to rest beside Jarvia, puzzled no more.

“It’s no business of mine but I have to ask: do you really have to? Your old friend looks harmless, if not stupid,” Zevran said to him, wiping the spatter off his face as he walked toward the nearest body to deprive it of its possessions.

“Nah. But ye see, Leske sold me out too many times and I canna trust him anymore,” Brosca said as he checked Jarvia’s pockets. “He was why I became a warden. If it ain’t for him, I wouldna left my family. He said he’s gonna look after me sister, but he been sleepin with the Carta boss with me gone.” He looked at Elissa, who was looking green. “Ye good, Missy?”

“Yes, yes, I’m fine. The room is just…stuffy. I need a little air," she said as she turned away from the carnage. 

Brosca had finished looting the bodies and turned to the chests. A plain one contained sheafs of paper, and some few treasures. Brosca held the papers for one moment, then snorted as he tossed it away.

Elissa was taking a turn about the room, not participating in the looting, when her eye was caught with the papers Brosca had discarded.

They were letters. Letters begging for the blackmail of warriors, faking a love letter, begging a forgery of an estate note of sale and many others. Some of them were ordered by someone they knew.  

She looked at Brosca but the dwarf was busy looking for more treasures, not looking at the papers. She thought about it and remembered that Brosca never glanced long at the fake notes Vartag had given them, asking her to read them instead. And further back, he never commented on any written sign outside buildings, preferring to ask the others where they are.

So she sidled up to the dwarf, and asked him if he need any help carrying the loot. Brosca was surprised, but handed some trinkets, which she pretended to dropped them, right on top of the papers. She apologised profusely, saying she might have been still affected by the fight. When Brosca’s attention was turned back to the chest, she picked the trinkets together with the papers and stowed them in her cloak. 

* * *

Prince Bhelen congratulated them on their success. However, he said they need more than clear local thugs to have the troops they need. They need to find Paragon Branka.

The paragon was a smith who had invented coal which, when burned, produces no smoke. Her invention has saved the lives of many smiths, as the smoke from their forges produced respiratory problems when inhaled. This single act had elevated the woman to godhood, which she used to found her own house. But a few years back, she and her house disappeared into the Deep Roads, vowing to find a legendary object called the Anvil of the Void.

 Bhelen told them they traced the paragon to Caridin’s Cross. And so off they go, out of the palace and into the Diamond Quarter when they ran into someone.

“What do you think you’re doing?” Thorin shouted at Brosca. People turned and stared at the dwarves.

Brosca just crossed his arms and said “Why’re ye here? Thought ye were going to look fer some old man?”

Thorin ignored his question and strode forward to stand in front of him. “I trusted you! I thought you would do the right thing.”

“Nugshit. Just say it. Amma never good enough fer ye. Ye think I donna see ye turn yer nose at me? Ye still think the casteless thug you thought I am.”

“Brosca, if I didn’t trust you, would I have let you in command of anyone?”

Brosca was silenced. He stood uncomfortably before deciding that his trust didn't matter. He told himself that it was foolish of Thorin to do so, and this act does not erase the fact that he is still the noble he vehemently despises. What other proof there could be, when Thorin's notion of doing the "right thing" meant letting the nobles continue to treat his kind like dirt? “I ain’t bought it. And I’m still gonna work fer yer brother. Least yer brother’s gonna be doing soemthing for us, instead of just sayin some fancy words like ye do now.”

“If this is about improving the situation of the casteless, there are other ways. But this isn’t the way to do it. Bhelen will use you as he used me and he will betray you when he has no more use of you.”

“Then we’ll use him right back! Least we doin somethin than lie on our back as yer people ran over us! What’s that Lord Harrowmont gonna do for us, eh? Nothin.  Ye donna like me choice? Ye sent me here. And yer brother mebbe a turd, but he’s gonna give us the troops we need to kill darkspawn.”

Thorin put his face near Brosca’s and glowered. “You can’t trust him.”

“And what? That Lord Harrowmont is? Even his people ain’t got the guts to fight for him.”

"That’s it! You’re out of line. I’m taking over here. You wait outside and by the Stone, if you’re not there when I’m finished here, I’ll beat you to an inch of your worthless hide.”

“Hah. Yer crazy if ye think imma take shit from you.”

Thorin brought out his ax and Brosca drew his, and it would have ended in a brawl, had not Elissa interfered.

“Stop! Or I will burn the treaties!” she shouted above the din.

The dwarves stopped and looked at her. She was leaning over the ledge, the treaty with Orzammar in her hands, her arm hovering just above the lava flowing below.

“Elissa, not you too,” Thorin said as he lowered his ax. Brosca followed suit, knowing without those papers, there are no reason for the Wardens to stay in Orzammar. 

“Not with you two behaving like common thugs. Look around. You’re all making us Wardens look bad.”

People were craning necks, watching and enjoying the spectacle of the Wardens being divided as they are.

“You two would settle your differences until one or both of you dies. But that would be a waste of a fighter for the Blight. Well, you believe in the paragons, right? How about this: there’s one we need to find, who can choose the king of this city. The Paragon Branka, who was lost in the Deep Roads a few years back. She should choose who would be king.”

“We don’t even know for sure that the Paragon is alive, Elissa! ” Thorin thundered.

Elissa cowered under Thorin’s glare, but she refused to be quelled. “But we don’t have a choice. We have to find her to settle the succession.”

Thorin just continued glaring at her. But Brosca laughed and lowered his ax. “Yer a brave girl, standin up to him like that. If that’s what ye want to do, then I’m gonna do it yer way.” Then he turned to Thorin, who was still looking furiously at Elissa. “I’m bettin imma find this paragon and win. Ye take me up on that?”

Thorin swung his gaze from the human to the dwarf.

“What, ye scared yer gonna lose? That she ain’t gonna like yer soddin face?”

Thorin glared at him but finally said “Fine. A contest it is.” He sheathed his ax but he was not done. “If you two don’t live up to your words, I will kill you myself. I have no use for anyone who cannot follow orders.” 

Elissa paled under his threat but Brosca just smirked.

“Elissa, you’re going to stay here and wait for our return. You-” he turned to Brosca. “Choose your people and I will choose mine. I will not hold your decision against them.”

“Heh. Alright.” He called Tabris and Neria to him. Neria joined him with enthusiasm, but Tabris dragged his heels while frowning at the two dwarves.

Mahariel, Alistair and Amadeus went to side with Thorin. Seeing that, Zevran shrugged and went to stand near Tabris. Morrigan told them they were both foolish but nevertheless sided with Thorin.  

Sten would have none of it and refused to pick sides. Wynne and Lelianna were of the same mind and instead pleaded for the two to work together. However, their blood was up and there is no backing down.

“We’re not even,” Tabris commented as he looked at the other group.

“Then Brosca will have to work with what he's got,” Thorin snapped at him. The elf flinched under his sharp tone.

When Thorin left them, Tabris turned to the dwarf and asked “Brosca, are you sure about this?”

“Aye, donna worry yer little head. I got ye.” Then he looked at the crowd gathered. “What’re ye lookin at?” he glared. The crowd shrugged and dispersed.

“I hope you have a plan?” Zevran asked him.

“We gotta go get someone who knows the way in the Deep Roads. Seems dem got it easy with him.” 

“Hey, Warden!”

Brosca turned to face a red-haired, ruddy faced dwarf who stank of stale beer.

“I heard you’re a Warden and you’re looking for a paragon,” the stranger said with deep, gravelly voice. 

“You heard right. Though I doubt anyone wouldn’t know that with what happened earlier,” Tabris commented as he looked at a few gawkers milling around.

 “Who’re ye?” Borsca asked the stranger.

“My name is Ogrhen of House Kondrat. I’m uh..…Branka’s husband.” He told them that he had been trying to find his prodigal wife and bring her home when he heard them quarreling. He offered to help them with his knowledge of her and what she wanted to find in exchange of going with them to find her. He explained that the Anvil of the Void was made by a smith named Caridin centuries ago. This was used to build golems, which protected Orzammar from the darkspawn for a hundred years. He added that Branka would have looked for it at Ortan Thaig, where the object was made. “So, are you going to let me help you find her or not?”

Brosca looked at the others and knew they don’t have much choice. “Yer on.”

* * *

Thorin was short-tempered with them all, not at all his usual calm self. There was a certain edge to his words which make it clear to anyone that they should heed  or risk misfortune. Still, his manner is not surprising, since he had been enduring a lot of slurs from his people for a crime he did not do. Not even counting the knowledge that his father is dead.

Back at the gates, they were expected by the gatekeeper, who had been told by Elissa that other Grey Wardens may come and request entry. When he saw who he was, his face hardened in dislike. “You’re the exile. This begins with you. Sorrow finished what your kinslaying started. Your father, our king, is dead.” 

“My brother’s death is a complicated matter,” Thorin answered through gritted teeth.

“Your conviction and guilt were entered into Assembly records. I suggest you leave and do not compound this tragedy.”

They would not have let them pass, had not Elissa also thought to ask Dulin Forender to watch out for them. 

They were on the way to Lord Harrowmont’s estate, when they were ambushed by Bhelen’s supporters. He fell on them, furious, one by one falling under his strokes until their line broke and they scattered, shouting “I ain’t gettin paid enough for this!”

Still this isn’t enough for people, who, when they saw him, spat at the ground. “You’ve got a lot of nerve showing your face here, exile,” one of them sneered. He had met most of them in passing and knew no ill of them, but they now display their worst qualities now that he had lost his caste. They treat him now as if he was casteless. Well, he thought, he is technically a casteless. As they walked through the streets while the people cursed him, he wondered idly if this is what the casteless experience just by one day, then how much more for those who were casteless by birth? This was immediately answered, because he had also participated and encouraged this sort of treatment. It wasn't very flattering to know that he is not as good as he thought he was. All this time, he was acting very cruelly to people who did him no harm. It also gave him an inkling on why Brosca disliked him so intensely and he understood why the duster would agree to work with his brother despite knowing his character.  

They met Lord Harrowmont at his estate. Dulin Forender led them to the noble’s study where Lord Harrowmont rose to greet them. The noble looks older than Thorin remembered. The lines in his face were deeper and his hair has completely turned white. At his age, he should be in retirement, dandling his grandchildren on his knee, not playing political games. 

“It is good to see you back,” the noble said to Thorin, “though I wish the circumstances were more favorable.”

“As do I, my lord.”

He let them sit in comfort before continuing. “I assume you have heard of our current predicament?”

“Yes. I want to know how my father died.”

“In grief. I’m sorry to see him join your ancestors with so much sorrow in his heart. It wounded him to lose Trian and you so quickly. Here,” Lord Harrowmont said as he handed a note. “A letter from your father. It was addressed to me but I thought you should read it too.”

Thorin opened it and read his father’s last letter, the king confessing his guilt in letting his son be sent to exile to protect their name and begging Lord Harrowmont to send people to look for him.

“We never found you,” Lord Harrowmont said softly.

Thorin lingered at his father’s signature before folding it close. “I bear him no ill will. I only wish that he rest in peace now.” He was about to hand it back but Lord Harrowmont stopped him. "Keep it," he said. Thorin thanked him and slipped it inside his pocket.

“I was with your father in his last hours,” the noble continued. “When he died, we were relieved that he had returned to the Stone without pain. But it was too good to be true. We found out later that a servant of Bhelen was part of the healer’s retinue. And he had access to the medicines your father had taken. We still do not know for certain if he had a hand in your father’s death, but even the court healer had said that King Endrin was weakening too fast.”

Thorin bowed his head. When he raised his eyes, they were full of anger. “I’ll never forgive Bhelen for this.”

Lord Harrowmont let him rage for a little longer, before moving on to their current problems. He said that he will never let men like Bhelen get away with this crime and so he decided to oppose his brother in the bid for the throne, as he promised the last time they parted. Thorin swore to help him. The noble said they were too late for the Proving, but his loss there does not matter if a paragon were to declare for him. They talked about Braska and how she might be alive in the Deep roads looking for the Anvil of the Void. It’s a slim chance that they can find her, but they will take what they can get.

They were just going to the Deep roads when they met Brosca and his group. There was a quarrel, then the next king of Orzammar was to be decided on a bet.


	86. Chapter 86

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Correction: The name of Thorin's bethroted is Nerav, not Adal.

Thorin left Brosca’s group and headed to the market to purchase supplies for their expedition.

“Buy everything we need. It’ll be a long journey and we wouldn’t be able to return easily if we forgot something,” Thorin said.

“Do you know this Paragon Branka?” Amadeus asked. 

“We’ve met,” the dwarf replied, with some sort of grimace.

"You have any idea where she is?”

He told him she would probably be in Ortan Thaig where the object she was looking for was made. They’ve got what they needed and was about to go, when a familiar voice called. “Thorin?”

He swung around and faced the only person who can get him out his current mood. “Nerav? Is that you?” he asked, surprised at finding his friend and betrothed standing before him.

“Yes, silly. It’s still me,” she said, before hugging him. She drew away from him in order to cusp her hands on his face. “I can’t believe this! I knew the spawn wouldn’t get you.”

“Ah, that’s because they knew you’ll get me yourself.”

“For today, you’ll get a pass.” They stood still that way, too happy to see each other again before they remembered where they are and who they’re with. “I’m sorry,” she said, releasing him, “I didn’t see you have company.”

Thorin stepped back and introduced them to her. As he talked, they conspicously avoided looking at Morrigan. Fortunately, Nerav didn’t notice it yet. She bowed to them all and exclaimed “Wow, I’ve never met so many Grey Wardens before. I feel so honored to meet you all.”

 “Indeed,” Morrigan said, bitingly cold.

She fell silent while her eyes flicked from her to them, who were looking as if they would rather be far away, and to Thorin, whom she knew like no one else. “Oh,” she said, the dots connecting. “Forgive my manners. I’m Nerav Helmi. I’m friends with Thorin since we were a child. Sorry about earlier. I thought he was dead and I couldn’t help expressing my…. _friendly_ relief at seeing him alive,” she said to them before turning to Thorin. “I heard about your father. I’m sorry,” she said in a subdued tone.

He nodded.

“How can I help?”

Thorin explained to her that they had to settle the succession in order to get aid in fighting the Blight. She promised the vote of their house in the election and swore that she will pressure her father to convince his noble friends to vote their choice. She also gave an invitation to visit their house, if they have the time or they need help.

“Thank you, Nerav. But I’m sorry, we can’t stay,” Thorin said to her.

She nodded. “Of course. I understand. I wish to talk privately about this but I know you’re busy. I have to know, is the thing…off?”

“I’m sorry Nerav. I don’t think they’re going to allow that to happen. I’m a Grey warden now. Your father would want to make a different arrangement about you.”

“Ah, don’t worry about me. I’ll be fine. I only wish that you’d be happy,” she said, with a glance at Morrigan. “Though I won’t be if you forgot about your friends.”

“We’ll always be friends, Nerav.”

“Yes…we are,” she said, letting it hang for a moment. “But time is rusting and I’m keeping you too long. May the ancestors watch over you all, and keep you safe,” she said, waving goodbye at them. They said their goodbyes and started walking towards the entrance of the Deep Roads.

“It seems with this city against you, we’ll need allies to win. How fortunate we are to meet a friend of yours,” Morrigan said, still cold. 

“This isn’t the time for jealousy, Morrigan,” he answered.

She snorted. “Don't flatter yourself."

* * *

Bhelen was understandably angry at the news that his brother is alive and working against him and Brosca bore the brunt of it. He shouted at him that he has to stop him or everything they have worked for will all be for nothing. Brosca shrugged and said “I ain’t making promises. Yer brother’s not some thug ye can kill easy.” Bhelen looked at him for a moment, nostrils flaring, before turning his back on him and walked to a chest. He rummaged inside it and came back to Brosca holding a paper in his hand.

“I know my brother,” he said, handing the paper to Brosca. “If he becomes difficult, give this to him. He’ll know what to make of it.”

Brosca looked skeptically at the piece of paper in his hand. “Ye sure this gonna stop him from gettin yer ass?”

Bhelen waved him away, opening a bottle and pouring himself a glass. He drank one before answering “Just do as I say.” He pointed with the empty glass at Brosca “And don’t use that against me or I’ll make sure you’ll never see your sister again.”

* * *

They traced Branka’s steps from Ortan Thaig using things her house has abandoned in their quest for the Anvil until they reached Bownammer. There they saw a group of dwarves driving darkspawn back across a bridge where at the end stood a massive gate. They joined in the fray, Thorin knowing that any dwarf will be glad for the help until all the darkspawn were killed.

“Atrast vala, Grey Wardens,” one dwarf greeted. He removed the helmet, revealing a shaved head and brand across his face. He wiped sweat off his face and grinned.

“Kardol,” Thorin said. “That’s the warmest greeting I’ve had since returning here.

 Kardol snorted. “Your past means nothing to the Legion of the Dead.”

 “I know. Though I’m surprised you heard the news about my exile. I thought you people never leave this place.”

“Ah. I do miss playing tricks on you. We do come up for news from time to time or it’d be boring. And we didn’t sign-up to be bored to death.”

“And here I was thinking the darkspawn is giving you plenty of action.”

“They do and since you’re here, we might spare some for you,” He shooked his head, his hands resting on the pommel of his sword while looking at the great gates. “Stone, if I had my way, you’d be one of us.”

He joined him in gazing at the overrun thaig. “Well, you’re too slow for that. The Wardens got to me first.”

“True, true. And I hope you’re not wasted on them. Tell me, why were you here?”

“I’m looking for a Paragon. Paragon Branka.”

“To swing a vote for the Assembly?”

“Aren’t you going to ask who I am supporting?”

“No. We follow the throne and it is empty. Below that is politics beneath Legion notice. I’m surprised you wardens are mixed up on it, since I thought your order doesn’t like to meddle in people’affairs.”

“It can’t be helped. We need a king to enforce a treaty.”

“Well, your work is cut out for you. Paragon Branka is dead, and everyone with sense knows it. Past our line, the darkspawn kill everything.”

 "Then why are you here instead of killing darkspawn?”

 “I’d gladly lead an assault through the Dead trenches but without an ass in the throne, we have no orders. I won’t take gold from a pretender.” He spat at the ground and pointed at the other side. “You want to go digging blind, go right ahead.”

Thorin thought he would have no help from him. “Nice meeting you, Kardol,” Thorin said to the Legionnaire.

“Same to you, Warden.”

“Now what?” Amadeus asked him when he returned to them.

“We need to see what we’re up against.” 

“There are a group of hurlocks and genlocks on the bridge. Before the great gate is an ogre, with archers on both side of the stairs," Mahariel reported. 

“We need to thin them out before we can take care of the ogre. Can you get the attention of those on the bridge and lead them here?” he asked Mahariel. The elf nodded. “Then we set up traps here. Alistair and I will be waiting for them here.  The rest of you, make sure they don't push us too hard. We-” he stopped when he saw Brosca and his group coming near them.

“Whaddye know, we keep meetin,” Brosca greeted. “Whatddye doin?”

Thorin rose up and faced him. “None of your business.”

Brosca attempted to walk past them and towards the bridge but Thorin pulled him back. “There’s an army of darkspawn ahead, with an ogre.”

 Brosca smirked. “Knew ye were soft.”

“I’m not doing this for you. I’m doing this for them,” Thorin said nodding at Brosca’s companions.

“Bah” Brosca said as he swat away Thorin’s hand from his shoulder. He raised his ax to face the bridge.

“What are you doing?”

“I ain’t stayin here sittin on my ass like yer doin.”

“Are you going to charge an ogre again?”

“If yer so smart, then go then.”

“And what? So you can just stroll in after we were done clearing it?”

“Pipe down the domestics, people!” Kardol called out to them. “The darkspawn have ears.”

They both looked at Kardol then started bickering again. “Whaddye want, then?” Brosca asked the other dwarf.

“Since we’re both here and want to go past the same bridge, we’ll just have to work together. Kardol says there’s two roads inside Bownammar. We can split up after we’re done.”

* * *

After the two groups work together to clear the bridge with Kardol's group helping, they split up. Brosca led his group towards the left passage as Thorin was thanking Kardol for their help. They encountered waves and waves of darkspawn, but with Neria’s new abilities, they toppled like paper as lightning and hail hit them.  Then deep into the thaig, they encountered one of Braska’s house. They were too sickened by the woman’s apperance to help her, for her eyes dulled to milk, her skin was marked with lesions and she spoke gibberish. Then Oghren remembered her as Hespith, the woman Branka ran away with. Sense returned when she heard her name, and she looked at Oghren with terror. She ran before they could question her and they gave chase. She stopped every now and then for them to catch up to her before running again and renewing the chase. They didn’t know where she was leading them, too intent to let her get away without revealing Branka’s location, until the tunnels became narrow, the growth upon the walls increased and the ominous chanting began.

 _“First day, they come and catch everyone,”_ Hespith's voice echoed, the woman herself nowhere in sight.

“What is that?” Tabris said, stopping in his tracks.

They all stopped and wondered where they were. Then Brosca said it did not matter and told them to press on. “Come on. We’re losin her,” he said and urged them forward.

_“Second day, they beat us and eat some for meat.”_

“Brosca?”

“She’s mad.”

They continued on, even when the chanting continued.

 _"Third day, the men are all gnawed on again._  
_Fourth day, we wait and fear for our fate._  
_Fifth day, they return and it's another girl's turn._  
_Sixth day, her screams we hear in our dreams._  
_Seventh day, she grew as in her mouth they spew._  
_Eighth day, we hated as she is violated.”_

Tabris covered Neria’s ears. "What? What's happening?" she whispered, glancing around. _  
_            

 _"Ninth day, she grins and devours her kin._  
_Now she does feast, as she's become the beast.”_  
           

They emerged into a cavern and regretted it instantly.

_“Broodmother.”_

At the end of the room, a bulbous, writhing mass was embedded on the wall. On a torso about as big as a room, were piled three pairs of humongous breasts which swayed and undulated with every movement. At the top was a huge face, fleshy and covered in pustules, a few strands clinging on the spot-filled scalp. Its tongue was lolling out behind blackened, bulbous lips.

The creature saw them and shrieked, its tongue looping in the air and rain spittle.

“Holy Andraste! What is that thing?” Tabris asked. The others could only stare in mute horror.

The thing shrieked again and at once, tentacles rose from the ground, surrounding them. They were still too shocked to fight smoothly, hacking at the tentacles with stiff movements. However, one of them got hold of Brosca and dragged him to the creature. They shouted his name and attempted to retrieve him, but a tentacle swung them off their feet. Brosca was lifted high in the air, and he felt the blood rush to his head. He tried to cut off the tentacle, but it was difficult to swing and hit when he was being shaken like a dog’s toy. Upside down, he saw Thorin and the others emerge into the tunnel, blood spattered and alert, but they too stared at the creature like they did. Only for a second; an arrow sprouted over its eye and Mahariel was nocking the second arrow on her bow. Its scream woke them from the trance, but before they could get close to kill it, tentacles rose in front of them and started attacking.

Thorin broke his eyes away from it and saw Brosca hanging upside down. Their eyes met then the elder dwarf started to move.

“Cover me!” he shouted to his companions as he ran to him, chopping the tentacles aside while the others froze or shot the growths in his way. He reached the base of the one holding Brosca and he swung his axe. The thing swayed like a tree and released the dwarf, who landed hard. Thorin grabbed him and roughly shoved him behind, blocking a slam with his shield and hacking at the other creeping at his side.

“Somebody do something about that!” he shouted and pointed at the creature.

“Neria, go. We’ll cover you!” Amadeus shouted at the mage.

“It’s too far! I can’t get through that!” she pointed at the tentacles at the center of the room.

“Just go!”

Neria glared at him but she ran towards the creature. Huge moving pillars tried to smack her into the ground but was repulsed. She kept running, until one rose up in front of her. She nearly stopped to point her staff at it, but arrows sprouted from it and it went down with a shriek from the creature. She stopped when she was near enough and made the first movement for the spell.

Out of the corner of her eye, the warriors slashed and stabbed at the tentacles attampting to get to her.

She felt power surge through her and she raised her hands again for the second movement. The melee rogues were right behind the warriors, stabbing and hacking at everything that tried to sneak through their defense.

It was finished and a storm broke out up the creature’s head, filling the room with flashing lights and booming sounds, the air suddenly smelling with the stench of burning meat. The creature screamed and thrashed, and they felt the whole cavern rumble with its cries.

She raised her hands again for the third movement. The mages put up barriers and froze those coming for them, while alternately healing and boosting the fighters.

 Another storm appeared at the creature’s head, this time billowing bone-chilling air through the room and making their skin shrivel and break like  glass.

“Die, bitch.”

The two storms combined, filling half the cavern, filling it with blinding lights and crackling echoes, unnatural howls and brittle frost. The creature’s screams was lost amid the gales blowing around it.

They still had to deal with the tentacles that appeared. While the strikes were not as precise as before, it was more frenzied, and they still had difficulty keeping it off from pummeling them into paste.

Neria was busy freezing those in front of her when Brosca tapped her in the shoulder.

“Let's go!”

“What?”

“She’s gettin away! Let’s go!” he repeated, pointing at where Helspith had vanished.

“But what about them?” she pointed at the other companions.

“They’re fine. That was half-dead already. Let’s go.”

With one more look at Thorin, busy fighting off the creature's limbs, she turned away and followed Brosca.

When they were a little farther in the tunnel, he told her to wait.

“Lemme do the talkin. Donna say anythin about this,” he said to her, oddly serious. She looked at him uncertainly, glanced at the passage, before turning to him. Then she nodded.  


	87. Chapter 87

Back at the Diamond Quarter, the ones who stayed where left to themselves as best as they can while waiting for the away teams. Leliana and Wynne were exploring the rest of the market, using this as an opportunity to learn of Orzammar and dwarven society. Elissa stayed behind, feeling out of sorts. Sten also stayed behind, showing no interest to wandering around without a purpose.

As she waited, Elissa took out her workbasket and began embroidering a shirt for Neria. She may be out of the castle, but she is still a lady, and a lady should never be caught idling. As she stabbed at the cloth, she sulked at the memory of Thorin yelling at her. It was really unfair, she thought. She thought her suggestion brilliant so she didn’t really deserved being yelled at. Yes, Thorin was really wrong, and she decided she would act cold to him so he’d realize she was right and apologize. Yes, that could work and she punctuated that thought with a great stab of her needle.

“Ow!”

She help up her finger at the drop of blood budding on her fingertip. The pain shifted her attention to her work and she saw her design looked more like a drowned chicken than a griffon. She was about to hurl it in another fit of ill-temper when she caught Sten looking at her oddly.

“Is something wrong?” she asked him.

Sten was quiet for a few minutes.

“I have a question,” he said finally.

“Oh, what is it?” She put the shirt away demurely, a little ashamed to be almost caught doing something childish and unladylike.

"I don't understand. You look like a woman."

She blinked in surprise. "I am a woman, Sten. Should I look like something else?"

"You are a Grey Warden.So it follows that you can't be a woman."

“Oh! You thought Grey Wardens are all men. That’s a common misconception. Some women do join the order.”

"No they cannot. Women are priests, artisans, shopkeepers, or farmers. They don't fight."

“They do here.”

“They should not. Or they are men.”

She was throughly confused now. “I don’t understand.”

“Nor do I.”

He’s not helping.

“So you think women should just be priests, artisans, shopkeepers, or farmers?” she asked slowly.

“It’s not what I think. It’s what they are.”

“That's not a very comprehensive list."

"The laborers, soldiers, and ashkaari are men. There is nothing else left."

She looked at him in confusion and still did not understand. What he said is as alien to her as his appearance. "None of this makes any sense, Sten."

"Exactly."

He is as helpful as ever."Well!” she exclaimed in exasperation. “We're going nowhere here."

Sten fell silent again. Before she could change the subject, he started speaking. "I don't know what to make of you. Perhaps this is a quality of Grey Wardens I had not heard about." She raised a brow in answer. "A person is born: qunari, or human, or elven, or dwarf. He doesn't choose that. The size of his hands, whether he is clever or foolish, the land he comes from, the color of his hair: These are beyond his control. We do not choose, we simply are."

"That’s not completely true. A person can choose what to do."

"Can they?" he asked, giving her a thoughtful look. "We'll see."

Why is everything today conspiring to make her lose her patience? She stood up and was about to offer to do something else, when Leliana and Wynne returned. She was relieved to see them but they were not as happy to see her.

“We just met a brother of the faith,” the bard said. She told her about Brother Burkel who was preaching in the market because the city did not permit him to build a proper chantry.

“If the chantry could help this one person as much as it helped me, it's worth any trouble. But the Shaperate would not let him spread Andraste’s word,” Leliana said sadly.

Elissa offered to help, more because of a curiosity to see an Andrastian dwarf wearing chantry robes and less because of actual compassion. Besides, she already had a taste of the strange today. What’s one more?

“I think we should go help him. The dwarves should also listen from Andraste’s teachings, don’t you think?”she asked them and led the way to the Shaperate.

* * *

Brosca and Neria emerged into a wider cavern where the others were waiting for them. Hespith is nowhere to be found

Brosca announced that they were the last ones out.

“What? What about Thorin and the others? I thought you said they’ll be right after us,” Tabris said, as Zevran and Oghren looked on with a knowing look but said nothing.

“Yea. But they’re, uh, held up and said to go ahead.”

Neria didn’t know what Brosca was planning but knew enough to keep silent.

Tabris was not pleased to leave the others, even if they had stayed behind to ceover their escape. “We have to go back. We can’t leave them there, with that…thing” Tabris said, and he started to go towards the tunnel.

Brosca reached out and held his arm. “Yer not goin anywhere,” he said. “We gotta find a Paragon and we ain’t gonna be doin that goin back.”

“But they might get killed!”

“They’ve got Wonderkid with them. They ain’t gonna die and ye know it,” Brosca said, willing his friend to trust him. In a softer voice, he said, “They’re fine. They fight good. But we gotta find Branka before darkspawn eat her.”

Tabris frowned. “I don’t like this,” he said, shaking his head. “But you’re right. I hope you’re right.”

He couldn’t go back anyway, because a barrier rose up, blocking their way back.

They looked around in alarm.

“Let me be blunt with you. After all this time, my tolerance for social graces is fairly limited. That doesn’t bother you, I hope,” a raspy voice said. A dwarf woman in armor appeared on a ledge above them. Her face matched the harshness of her voice, as she looked down at them with disgust.

“Shave my back and call me an elf. Branka? By the Stone, I barely recognized you!” Oghren called out to her, smiling, his hands spread in welcome.

She saw him and frowned. “Oghren. It figures you’d find your way here. Hopefully, you can find your way back easier,” she said, without warmth. When she was done insulting her then husband, she turned on them. Oghren asked her to be polite and introduced them as Grey Wardens, but the woman only mocked them and asked for their errand. They replied they need her to settle the throne. She replied that she will only do that if they retrieved the Anvil of the Void.

Oghren could not believe what she had become. “What has this place done to you? I remember marrying a girl you could talk for one minute and see her brilliance,” Oghren said, with a pleading appeareance his drink-wasted face could show.

She looked at him, as haughty as ever. “I am your Paragon.”

Darkspawn burst forth from the tunnel at the end of the room. They brought out their weapons and fought, while Branka lamented her house’s refusal to help her get past Caridin’s traps, saying that sacrifices were necessary to achieve greatness. They were swearing all the while, swearing that she’s mad, as the waves of darkspawn kept appearing. She kept on telling them about the sacrifices she forced her house to do until finally she allowed the women of her house to become broodmothers to use the offsprings for the traps.

“They say your order is reknowned for its wits and brawn. Perhaps you’ll do better than my clansmen. There’s something about this place, that it makes people despair,” the Paragon said, with something like regret, before she turned away.

“Come back here, you sodding, nughumping, shitty bitch!” Neria screamed at the dwarf, her hands full with setting fire to darkspawn. The floor rumbled with footsteps and then an ogre appeared from the dark, coming straight for them.

* * *

“Where in this sodding hell is Neria?” Thorin shouted as he swung his axe and severed another tentacle.

“They left, Thorin! I saw them go, her and Brosca!,” Amadeus answered to him as he fired another rejuvenating spell at the warriors.

They were still in the Broodmother Cavern, fighting the swinging tentacles, when the monster roared and darkspawn came pouring through the tunnels. Then the dwarf turned around and found themselves surrounded, since no one was covering their backs.  

“Morrigan! Do something about that,” he shouted before turning back to face the incoming horde.

The witch raised her staff, waved her arms, and a storm of ice broke out the monster’s head. They heard it shrieking, trying to flap the roaring wind away with its hands.

“You should have let me teach you that spell,” Amadeus said to her, observing that the storm she made was smaller than the ones Neria makes.

“I suppose you will when pigs start flying,” answered the witch. Then she casted another storm to rain fire on the darkspawn.

Mahariel shot arrow after arrow at the monster, inwardly cursing. The body was too thick with fat for her arrows.

“Thorin! Her skin is too thick! I cannot kill it,” Mahariel shouted at him.

Thorin rolled away from the darkspawn as fire rained on the creatures and looked at the Broodmother. She was trying to get arrows out of its eyes while swinging its tentacles around, looking for his companions. Sometimes, it gets lucky.

“Alistair! Go up there and cut that monster’s neck! I can take it from here. Mahariel, shoot anything that tries to flank me!”

Alistair ran towards the monster and looked up its body. “Uhm, Thorin…you want me to climb that up?” he said, looking at the folds and folds of fat and the nubs that he can use as handholds.

“This isn’t the time to be picky, Alistair! Just do it!”

“Maker, forgive me,” he said reddening as he jumped up and held onto the nub. An arrow shot just above him and he grabbed at it, muttering his thanks to Mahariel. With a trail of arrows, he reached its shoulder and brought out his sword. He plunged the weapon deeply on the thick, fat neck and a jet of blood spurted out. He held on to the shoulder tightly as the thing shrieked and tried to shake him off. He looked and jumped, grabbing the hilt, as he saw a hand smash the place where he was previously been on. He grabbed it in both hands and pulled down with his weight, the sword making a deep gash as it slid down, blood pouring out of it, spraying everything with its vile fluid.

He fell and landed on the ground as a a river of blood washed over him.

The Broodmother swayed on its rolls, the stubby arms trying to staunch the wounds on its neck, its life pouring out of it, as it shrieked, blood bubbling out. With one final scream, its head rolled, its arms dropped and it lay still.

Alistair wiped the blood off his face and grinned. And then he turned to his companions.

The Broodmother’s death rattle had brought out all darkspawn in until the cavern was crawling with them. They had surrounded the dwarf until he cannot be seen among their swords.

Morrigan was blasting fire onto the mass, but a genlock aimed at her and shot an arrow into her shoulder. She staggered backwards, and a hurlock hurried to lop off her head. It flew into the air, as a glyph appeared under her feet. She stood up, blasting her enemies left and right, cursing as she backed away.

Amadeus was busy casting trying to keep the dwarf alive when a hurlock came running at his back. Mahariel shouted at him to get away but he could not hear her amid the shrieks and grunts. Her quiver empty, she ran towards him, throwing her dagger at another hurlock running to intercept her. The hurlock reached the mage and raised its sword.

Amadeus turned around and saw the sword above him. Then he was bumped sideways. Mahariel had pushed him out of the way but it was too late for her. The sword fell, opening her up from shoulder to hip. She went down on her knees, her eyes blank as blood bursts along the sword's path and out of her.

It’s too much.They’re too many.

Alistair raised his sword and yelled, running towards her.

* * *

Brosca’s group was so pissed at what Branka made them do, they were of one mind to do something to her. The last room opened to a cavern, where they strode in, yelling for Braska to show her Stone-damned ugly face. Golems lined at the walls and as they shouted, the largest of them moved towards them. They turned around ready to strike but it suddenly spoke.

“My name is Caridin,” it said.

“Caridin? Like the Paragon?” Oghren asked, too shocked by a golem talking and not immediately smashing them to bits.

“Once, longer than I care to think, I was Paragon to the dwarves of Orzammar,” the golem answered in a solemn voice. He let that sink in, before continuing. “If you seek the Anvil, then you must care for my story or be doomed to relive it.” He revealed to them the truth about the Anvil and what golems really are: a dwarf merged with metal. At first, he used volunteers. His works have driven back the darkspawn from sacking Orzammar. However, the king, Valtor, became greedy and ordered criminals, casteless, political rivals instead of volunteers to be made golems. He rebelled, so he was turned into one.

Branka suddenly appeared behind them. Caridin saw her and became agitated.

“Help me destroy the Anvil! Do not it enslave more souls than it already has!”

“No! The Anvil is mine! No one will take it away from me!” Branka declared.

“What makes you think we’ll help you, when you let your house to die and leaving us back there?” Tabris asked her, drawing his blades.

 “Don’t listen to him!” she said, pointing at Caridin. “He’s been trapped here for a thousand years, stewing in his own madness. The Anvil will take us back our glory! Help me claim the Anvil and you’ll have an army you’ve never seen.”

“Not at this price.”

"Living souls suffer all the time," Zevran said. "Peasants working the land are trapped. but we do not go about destroying farmland, do we? It just seems a waste destroying the anvil. Given what it could do."

"Really? How would you feel being turned into a golemn?" Tabris asked him.

"Blissful I think, since I'd be hard as a rock all the time."

"I'm not joking."

"Alright, alright," Zevran said, holding his arms up placatingly. "I guess destroying it is a good idea."

“Branka, you bleedin nugtail!" Oghren shouted at the smith. "Does this thing mean so much to you that you can’t even see what you’ve lost to get it?” he asked, trying to talk sense into her. In vain, she couldn’t be reasoned with.

Brosca let them shout over each other for a while before turning to Caridin. “We needa Paragon to support a king," he said calmly.

“I will give you a crown to put on your choice.”

“I can also give you that and more,” the smith offered. “Just do not destroy the Anvil.”

Brosca looked at Branka. “What, so ye and yer kind could throw casteless at it?” he asked, showing his contempt of her ilk as much as he can. “Yer crazy if ye think I’m gonna be helpin ye.” He turned to Ogrhen. “She’s just too crazy. I’m sorry.”

“Thank you, stranger. Your compassion shames me,” Caridin said to Brosca.

Branka looked from one to the other. Then she held up a rod. “Bah! You’re not the only master smith here. Caridin! Golems! Obey me! Attack!”

The golems activated and moved towards them, led by the Paragon of their choice.


	88. Chapter 88

Alistair’s howl reverberated throughout the cavern, making the darkspawn stare at him in surprise. This was enough, for their momentary distraction had given Thorin time to pull a smite which would have been fatal for mages, but only served to knock the darkspawn back. With room to swing, the dwarf cut some of them down  and used his shield to knock the rest, enough time for Morrigan to finish her spell and rain lightning over them all.

Amadeus rolled back to see Mahariel fall before him. He crawled himself away, using the last of his mana to cast, as the hurlock walked towards him. It screeched at him, showing its rotten teeth, as it stepped over the elf’s body to get to him. He rolled away and stood up, still backing away, when it swung its sword again and he jumped back. He drew the last of his reserve to cast a spell as it tried again to cut him in half.

 It raised its sword again and he instinctively put up his staff to ward the blow, when it dropped to one knee. A hand appeared behind it, cusing its chin while the other held its neck. The hand drew back and its neck snapped. The hurlock fell, revealing Mahariel, breathing raggedly, her skin knitting back over the exposed flesh and bones.

It was then that Alistair reached them but she waved him away. “Go” she croaked at him, pointing at where the dwarf was. He nodded and ran towards the dwarf who was surrounded again. He slashed at their flanks and cut his way to Thorin, putting his back to him. “Can you do that thing you did earlier?” the dwarf asked

“That? Well, here it goes.”

He gave a great shout, staggering the darkspawn in front of them. They then took the oppurtunity to cut them while they’re down.

Amadeus went round, piling the bodies to turn into mana, which he gave to Morrigan, who summoned lightning to thin the horde out. Mahariel scrounged for arrows and shot those beyond their reach.

A little while later, the cavern was silent. Alistair wiped the gore off his sword and sheathed it, looking around to see how his companions are.

Amadeus was standing behind Morrigan, wiping the skin around her shoulder where an arrow is buried. He looked pale, his blanched skin a great contrast to the dark blood spattering him from head to toe, but his hands were steady as he finished cleaning and taking a knife out, started to dig out the arrowhead as she braced herself not to scream. A shriek, and the thing went out of her, then Amadeus healed the wound close.  

Mahariel, meanwhile, was breathing heavily, clutching her hand in her chest, where a great wound starting from shoulder to waist was healing, turning from angry red to dull pink until it disappeared. She looked down upon her armor, cleaved open and ruined beyond repair, exposing the skin where a wound had been. Breaking out a strip of bandage, she tied it around her chest, pulling the armor together. Though the armor could no longer give her any protection, it still can give back to her her modesty.

It was at this point that Alistair realized it is rude to stare and a battlefield is hardly a place for sightseeing. He turned away to look at something else, telling himself that his companions are alright.  Details began to emerge. Horrifying details. There were a lot of limbs scattered all over the place, blood up to the ceiling, the Broodmother’s corpse nearby, looking horribly mangled and-why is the cave so hot all of the sudden?

Thankfully, the dwarf came by to plan their next action and he was glad for the distraction.

* * *

Neria woved in and around the golemns, freezing them in place for the rest to shatter. Branka noticed this and snarled. She headed towards her so the elf threw a fireball.

“GAAAAAAAHHH!” the smith screamed in rage as she leapt out of the fire and ran even faster towards the elf. Her appearance was so terrying, her whole body wreathed in flame that Neria ran. She ran until she reached the ledge, turning round to face the smith.

Branka was about to swing her ax when Oghren stepped between them.

“Stand aside, Oghren,” Branka said.

“Branka, stop. You still have a chance to turn around.”

“I am not going to repeat myself. Stand aside, or I will cut you down with her.”

“Your loss.”

Branka was about to make good on her promise when a hand appeared on hershoulder and drew a dagger across her neck. She staggered, clutching a hand to her throat and turned around to find Tabris standing over her. She pointed her ax to him as she backed away, her eyes filling with the hatred she could only show and  not say. The hatred born of years and years of hardship and bitterness, of Hespith’s love and her betrayal, to be so close to her dream and yet not touch it-

_Ihateyouihateyoumayyoudieandallyourkin-mydream-mydream-Hespith-_

Tabris watched impassively as she sunk to the ground and lay still as the blood run out. “I’m sorry, I had to kill her,” he said to Oghren.

Oghren nodded. “It’s you or her. And she’s not gonna back down no matter what you tell her, anyway.”

Neria ran past Oghren and hugged Tabris. She sobbed against him while he reassured her. They watched as the golems deactivated without the control rod. Caridin regained his sense and thanked them for stopping him.

“Stupid woman! Always knew the Anvil would kill her,” Oghren murmured as he looked at his wife’s corpse.

Caridin set to work on the crown, working his seal into it. At last it was completed and he gave the crown to Brosca. "There. It is done. Give it to whom you will. I do not wish to hear their names, nor anything more of them. I have already lived far beyond my time. I have no place here."

"Then Imma smash the anvil. Ye can count on that."

"You have my eternal thanks, stranger. Atrast nal tunsha..." He walked to the ledge, facing the lava flowing below. "May you always find your way in the dark," he said, and let himself fall.

They stayed silent, for the fallen Paragon, and also because they were really tired, even when they had taken the poultices. Whether from fighting or just from the horror of what one can do to others, is anyone’s guess.

“BBBBRRRRROOOOOSSSSCAAAAAA!!!”

Brosca turned around and found Thorin, covered in blood and guts and wrathful. He expected him to survive and so was prepared to meet him. “Yer too late,” he said, as Thorin advanced. “ I won. Yer-”

He expected the fist but he didn’t expect the speed of it. He was about to drop into the ground, but he rolled away, ignoring the pain in his mouth. He spat a tooth and tasted metal, but he kept his eyes on Thorin as he tried to land another blow. He dodged and jabbed to keep him away.

If it’s going to end in a brawl, then so be it. He wouldn’t call himself a duster if he can’t give a good fistfight.

Thorin was enraged, but not enough to lose his focus. Years of discipline had ingrained in him that losing temper is the first step to losing a fight. However, Brosca grew in the streets and know nothing about fairness, so Thorin did not expect a kick to the shin that sent him on one knee. He moved his head away just in time from an uppercut, his beard flying from the force of the blow. He rolled away as Brosca advanced.

‘What’s wrong, eh? Canna beat a duster like me?”

He stood up, furious as ever, but Brosca drove him back on the defensive.

“Ye think I gonna let ye ride over me? I won. Ye not gonna change that.” Brosca taunted.

“You cheated!” Thorin shout at him as he threw a hook to Brosca. The duster brought his arm up and blocked it. “You think I would let you walk away from here, knowing that you left us back there to die!”

Meanwhile the others stood back and watched as the dwarves beat each other. The others who went with Brosca looked horrified at the abandoned group. They were all covered in blood and gore, their faces stony with anger, and they looked impassively on as their leader landed blows on the one who had abandoned them.   

“Stop them! They’re going to kill each other,” Tabris finally said when the dwarves were too bloodied to be recognized.

“They won’t. Look, they’re not even using their weapons,” Amadeus answered him coldly as he watched.   

Tabris was angry to learn he had been tricked and also horrified for being an unwilling party to a desertion. “Look, we really didn’t know Brosca left you there on purpose. We thought Thorin told us to go ahead as you hold the Broodmother off.”

“What? Thorin never did anything of that sort. We turned around and saw Brosca running away.” There he glared at Neria.

“He made me do it. He said that thing’s dying and we shouldn’t worry.”

“Really? Did you know that thing called every darkspawn nearby as it weakened? Darkspawn came pouring out of the tunnels and we had to fight them as well as that monster. Mahariel died!”

“But you revived her, didn’t you?” Tabris said, trying to divert Amadeus’ anger away from Neria.

“Yes I’m there. But what would’ve happened if I got killed before I could revive any of them?”

 “Alright, but that does not mean he should beat him bloody.”

“Yes. It’s much better to throw him straight to the lava, the backstabbing bastard.” 

Away from them, the two dwarves continued to trade blows.

“What makes ye think I’m gonna let ye win?”

“You bastard!” Thorin’s fist landed and Brosca stumbled back, his nose bleeding. “I should’ve known. I should’ve known better to trust a casteless like you!”

“Ah. Yer finally stopped lookin all nice and shit.” He spat blood on the ground. “Ye make me puke. Donna think I donna see yer look down at me.”

“You’re all the same. Thieves, murderers, liars. I should’ve known you would turn on me.”

“Hah! Ye say that all high and mighty but yer the same as me! Casteless!”

“I was framed! My exile is none of my doing!”

“Yer still casteless! Yer precious shapers will always say that.”

“Even if I am you think I would let my worthless brother ruin others as he have ruined me? You think I will let you make my brother a king? You think I would let a man like him rule Orzammar? A man without honor, a man without shame. A man not even loyal to his family? ”

 

“That honor’s gone so far up yer ass that ye can’t see yer people is dyin,” the duster shouted back.

“What? You think everything will be better with him as king? He cares nothing about Orzammar. He will betray you as well as he betrayed me. He will betray anyone if he can gain by it. He is only loyal to his interests and nothing else.”

“And yer Lord Harrowmont isn’t? He ain’t gonna be better than Bhelen and ye know it. He’s gonna make sure ye follow rules all proper and that’s that! He ain’t gonna save us from the ‘spawn and by the Stone, he ain’t strong enough to be king.

Unpleasant as it is, Brosca is partialy right. Lord Harrowmont is a good man, and an excellent adviser to his father, but he is only suited to be a follower, not a leader. He had no orginal thought of his own, he always looks up to his superiors for guidance. If he was made king, he knew the noble would rule as his father ruled, but without his father’s vision. He would continue his father’s legacy without really knowing why, but instead will reason that this is how it’s always been done, no matter how inapplicable or outmoded it is for present circumstances. Such behaviour is not a great for a king.

“Bhelen cannot be king,” he growled.

Brosca laughed. “Ha! Yer just sore cause yer brother played ye good.”

That was it. Thorin yelled and tackled Brosca, sending them over the edge.

* * *

 Inside the Assembly, the the noise grew to unbearable levels as all the nobles argued and shouted over each other. Loudest of them all were the parties of both candidates, pressing their lord’s claim to the throne not through reasonable debate, but in ever increasing braying. Those who lack in wit they make up for it with volume.

"Lords of the Assembly, I call for order! This argument gets us nowhere!" Steward Bandelor shouted over the din.

Bhelen broke off from arguing with Harrowmont and turned to him. "Then why these delaying tactics? I call for a vote right now. My father has one living child to assume the Aeducan throne. Who would deny him that?" he said, posing the question to the assembled nobles.

Harrowmont glared at him. "Your father made me swear on his deathbed you would not succeed him."

“Are we supposed to trust your word when no one else was permitted to pay their respects to our beloved king? Or the king may have chosen a successor from any of us but no one else knew because you did not allow them to hear?”

“That is an unjust-”

“Enough!” Steward Bandelor shouted. “If you have any accusations, you have to follow proper procedures,” he chided Bhelen. “Present it to this court and submit your evidence. I will not allow anyone to bypass the rules of this Assembly.”

The hall erupted in shouts again when the hall doors opened. Brosca walked in, bloody and bandaged, and behind him was Elissa, Zevran and Oghren. Bhelen smirked at the sight of them as Harrowmont’s face fell.

"Well, Wardens? What news do you bring?" the steward said. Elissa walked forward, bearing the crown.

"Weve got yer crown from a Paragon. Only, twasna Branka we got it from, but Caridin. He made the Anvil of the Void, if ye remember," Brosca said. The crowd murmured in shock as they heard of the famous maker of golemns.

“Caridin? But he could not be alive after all this time. This must not be real,” Harrowmont said, frowning as the crown was passed by Elissa to the Steward.

“He got better,” Brosca replied. Oghren stepped forward and explained. “Caridin was trapped in a body of a golemn. The wardens granted him the mercy he sought, releasing him and destroying the Anvil of the Void.Before he died, he forged a crown for Orzammar’s next king, chosen by the ancestors themselves.”

“I would like to believe Oghren’s word but we all know the Warden is Bhelen’s hireling," Lord Harrowmont said.

“Even so, we shall see if it is true,” the steward replied. The hall went quiet, the nobles holding their breath, as the steward examined its authenticity. Finally, Bandelor looked up. "This crown is of Paragon make, and bears House Ortan's ancient seal,” he proclaimed. He turned to Brosca. “Tell us, Warden: whom did Caridin choose?"

Brosca looked at Bhelen, whose face showed anticipation of his ultimate victory, then to Harrowmont, whose face had aged even more in worry.

"He chose Bhelen."

 Lord Harrowmont closed his eyes and hung his head as Bhelen stepped forward to the Steward and accepted the crown. Steward Bandelor put the crown on his head, murmuring for the memories to find him worthy. Bhelen rose in his newly won glory.

“At last, I am king.” He turned to the assembly. “Do you acknowledge me as king?” he asked them.

“We cannot deny a Paragon. The throne is yours.” One by one, they dropped their knee to him, Lord Harrowmont included.

Bhelen looked over them all, savoring his victory, when his eyes fell upon Lord Harrowmont. “ Then as my first act as king, I call for this man’s execution,” he said, pointing at Lord Harrowmont, “for daring to claim the throne and trying to stop your king from taking his rightful place.”

The steward started to protest. “Your majesty, this is not-”

“Silence! I am your king and I have spoken.”

Before anyone could react, the guards stepped forward and grabbed the Lord’s arms between them. Lord Harrowmont was forcibly made to drop on his knees before Bhelen and as he protested against this, a blade appeared at his neck and sliced deeply. The hall went quiet, hearing the lord’s protests through the blood bursting from his neck and spreading on the floor as he writhed. Then his protests died away and he fell silent.

“My second order: from here on, this Assembly is dissolved.”

A noble rose up from the pews and started to say something. Bhelen gave a look at the guards, and swiftly, they ran up to the noble, held him still and cut his neck. He fell down the stairs,his fellow nobles looking in horror as the steps were painted red in his passing, until he came to rest on the floor.

“Anyone else have an objection?” Bhelen said drily.

Everyone looked from the dead man to the man they had made king.


	89. Chapter 89

As Bhelen imposed his rule and chaos erupted, Brosca remembered the conversation he had with his brother on that narrow strip of land below the ledge, with the red light of flowing lava their only illumination.

When Thorin pushed him to the edge, he did not wish to subdue him any longer. He aimed to kill.

He jabbed at the face and the other dwarf raised an arm to block him, only for Thorin to punch the unprotected ribs. Brosca doubled over, grunting and threw a hook, but Thorin caught his wrist and flipped him over to the ground. He held him down and with him having no chance of escape,  he punched the face repeatedly. The dwarf beneath him putting his arms up to protect himself, but it only made Thorin punch them down until they tired and he could not raise them anymore, thus opening up the face for his blows. With each impact he poured forth the anger and grief that had long been simmering and yet he could not release in their presence and their mission: the anger of losing his brother, his father and his honor.  

He did not know how long he had been beating him, but Brosca has not been reacting for a long time now. His face was swollen and bloody beyond recognition, and the rest of his body gave up struggling. Thorin stopped for a moment,until gradually he heard a faint wheezing breath and then a cough.

Thorin drew his ax and put it under the duster’s beard. “Give me one good reason why I should let Bhelen rule.”

Brosca did not answer. Thorin leaned back as the duster searched his pockets and produced a letter. “Yer brother said…to give ye this," the duster said, holding a paper before his face. "That he was just doing what yer old man did, as all the Aeducans before ye. That he was keepin yer family’s tradition.” Thorin was too bewildered by this but took the paper. He stood up and back to have some distance and watched if the duster was going to attack, but the Brosca was too spent to do anything except breathing wheezingly and coughing up blood. So he opened the letter and read it.

Thorin opened it and read an instruction of his father, who was then a prince, to the Carta into poisoning the blade of his older brother’s opponent. There was no doubt it was genuine even if it came from his brother. His vision grew blurry as he remembered that his father succeeded his older brother when the latter died from wounds sustained in a Proving.

And now he knew that the one who told him that the dwarves can became more than they are now, more than squabbling over wealth and settling grudges, was a fraud. That his father, who told him that to be a dwarf is to preserve their traditions and live in honor, did not believe on the same values he preaches, the values of honor and justice, but used them in order to promote his own self-interest. That nobility is not a responsibility as he had been told, but a privilege. That everything he had believed in, was not real. They are a mirage, only a cover, for their true purpose.

The end of all endeavor is the fulfillment of self-interest.

There never was any use trying to be more than they are now, and he had been a fool to belive otherwise. He is a fool, a most deluded fool.

He always believed in loyalty to Orzammar, live in truth and deal with honesty. Upholding of duty and honor in sacrifice. Protect the rights of the people. Reverence to the ancestors and the Paragons. Preserve the dwarven way of life.

But this is all a lie.  

__You sacrifices will be honored._ _

How many times had he spoke those words, when their line was about to break, when they had to leave someone else behind? When fresh faced recruits faced battle for the first time? To continue fighting even when there’s no hope, and their efforts would only lead to their deaths. When he held a dying man and told them that their death will make their families proud, and their ancestors will find them worthy, just so he could ease their way to oblivion?

It was all lies. And he had sent people to death with them.

He was tired, dead tired. He raised his ax, wishing an end to this fight, but he felt his strength ebbing away.

“Do what you want.”

Brosca blinked at him from his one good eye. “What?”

Thorin turned away, weary with the madness of it all.

“I said, do what you want,” Thorin said, without looking back and climbed up the ledge.

The others expressed their relief upon seeing him alive, but none dared to check if he killed Brosca while he was in sight.

“I’m going. I have enough of this place. If anyone thinks as well, then let’s go.” That was the only explanation the dwarf gave them.

He looked at the crown on Tabris’ hands and said to the elf. “Make sure the chosen king uphold the treaty,” he told him before heading to the exit.  The others hesitated, shocked, that he had not demanded the crown, but one by one, they left and followed him, unwilling to be left a second longer with their betrayer.

 Tabris, Neria and Oghren were the only ones who were left. When the others were out of sight, Tabris ran to the ledge. “Brosca!” he called to the body on the ground.

Brosca sat up with great difficulty, groaning loudly. Tabris let himself down the ledge and ran to his side. At his heels was Neria, while Oghren stayed behind the and looked down at them all.  

‘You’re crazy, you know that,” Tabris said as he rummaged his pack for a poultice.

Brosca winced as the elf applied the medicine on his bruises. “Ah. Sometimes, ye gotta go crazy to fight fer things important to ye.”

Oghren snorted.

Tabris and Neria set to work silently appying the poultice on him and bandaging his wounds.

“I’m sorry, ye know.”

The two looked up at him.

“I did’nt tell ye what I was doin. I thought ye wouldn’t go with it.”

“You should have trusted us,” Tabris said.

“I know. But say, If I did tell ye, would ye have gone with it?”

Tabris stayed silent as Neria said “Of course we would.”

“You should’ve have talked to Thorin. He’s reasonable, you know,” the elf told him with a frown.

“His head is hard when it comes to Orzammar. It’s gonna take a big push to make him see different.”  

* * *

 

The rest of the wardens waited outside the Assembly hall. It went long, so Tabris and Neria thought they make some money as they waited. A nug wrangler needed help catching some nugs who had escaped their cage, and they were offered the job. They haggled about the price for a while until they made a deal. It was not easy as they thought it was, as the nugs ran too fast. They cornered one, only for it to break free and out of their grasp. The nug was squeaking gleefully as it sped away to freedom, when Amadeus raised his staff and it ran into a glyph. It stood frozen to watch the elves catch up to it and scooped it up. They whooped in victory, until they spotted another one.

 Tabris shoved the nug into Amadeus arms and gave chase, telling him to watch it without looking back. The mage started to protest against this treatment when he noticed the nug eyeing him curiously. It looked to him with such cute button eyes, its pink snout quivering, soft ears twitching that the protest died in his throat. He did not mind as it raised a small hand, as if to touch his face.

 Until it raised all its hands. Four of them. He resisted the urge to scream and throw it to the nearest wall.

Elissa came running out the hall, out of breath and asked him where Thorin is. He answered he’s gone ahead outside, not noticing the nug in his arms preparing to spring. She ran to the gates, not bothering to explain and vaguely registered a muffled shriek. The nug sprang onto his face and held its grip, resisting all his attempts to dislodge it.  

She found the dwarf on the hall of visitors. Thorin saw her and guessed her purpose. “So I take it everything is sorted out? Bhelen crowned King? Treaties upheld?” he asked when she came near enough.

“Yes, all of it and more. Lord Harrowmont is dead. Bhelen killed him immdiately after being crowned. Without explanation, without warning. And he’s now starting to do it with those who tried to protest against it.”

Thorin drew his ax, moving forward as if he would barge pass the doors and stop his brother. But he suddenly stopped, closed his eyes, put his ax back, turned back and walked away.

Elissa watched him in shock for a second before running after him. “Have you heard what I’ve said? Bhelen is killing innocent people, right now! We have to stop him.”

“We are not required to do anything. He is the king. He does what he wants,” he answered.

 “But he’s a bad king! He doesn’t deserve to be one!”

“Why not? He never lacked for effort.”

“But he’s killing all those who protested over his murder of Lord Harrowmont! Right now, the assembly is in chaos and Bhelen’s goons are catching everyone who disagrees with him. And you’re just going to allow that?”

“I don’t care what happens to them. I have served decades, protecting their homes and ensuring order in their streets. But at the end of it all, they allowed me to be accused falsely and sentenced me to die in the Deep Roads, all for a man who killed his own kin and pandered to their greed. Trust me when I say: they had it coming.”

 “This is not the time to be flippant about this,” Elissa said angrily. “People are dying.”

“People that won’t be missed. At least, not by me.”

“So are you going to just walk away, is that it? What about Orzammar?”

Elissa waited as the dwarf just stood silently, his back to her. Finally he turned around slowly to face her. “Honestly,” he began, raising his eyes to hers, “I don’t give a fuck.”

* * *

Brosca was at the palace with Bhelen and his allies who were celebrating his success. He was there to make sure that Bhelen keep his word regarding the treaties. The new king did, giving instructions to his second about preparing their army until he was swept away by his followers, impatient to celebrate his victory. He was left alone until he found his arm taken by someone else.

“Brother! I’m glad you’re here!” Rica said and hugged him.

He smiled and grabbed a mug from a passing waiter. “Of course. Ain’t gonna miss me little sister gonna be Queen of Orzammar. Whadda me gonna call you now, eh? Yer Pretty Majesty?”

“Stop it," she said with a playful slap on his arm. "You’re my brother. You’re going to call me as you’ve always called me.” They watched the revelers, who were now giving toasts to Bhelen. “I’m sorry about your friends not coming,” she started. “Some of them helped Bhelen, didn’t they?”

“They woulna stayed anyway. Warden business and all that.”

 “I understand. But I do wish to see them again.”

He fell silent as he remembered Tabris and Neria saying goodbye to him. They came to give his pack and relayed Thorin’s message. Then Neria hugged him and he patted her head, telling her it’s alright. Eventually, Tabris said farewell and took her away.

He looked to the man who caused all that. Bhelen having the time of his life, blissful that everything he had planned had come to fruition. He smiled at his followers with the brand on their faces. They had done better than expected, both as his greatest supporters when he was a prince, and later when they became a weapon against his foes. Through them, he had destroyed his enemy’s power base by breaking the system of patronage the nobles had so depended to impose their will and that which he, a mere princeling without the traditional traits so prized by them, could not hope to tap. The casteless had encouraged the other classes to throw off the yoke of their master’s authority in the name of equality, freedom and justice and in so doing, weakened his enemies. He was so blissful he did not mind he was being called a progressive dwarf. He wanted to laugh at how all his machinations ended up enhancing his public image instead of diminishing it, and made him the good guy in the eyes of the people.

But it was not the same with Brosca. True, he had achieved what what he wanted to do. The nobles thrown down, his king crowned, his sister married and going to be queen, and his mother going to be taken care of for the rest of her life.

But all of this did not give him the satisfaction he thought he was going to get.

He remembered Thorin’s face when he read that dreadful letter, saw his face when everything he valued had been taken away and he was left with nothing. When he gave that letter, he felt the same way as if he was dealing a final blow. When the ex-prince read it and his face fell, he was supposed to feel triumphant, but it did not come. Why? Thorin was everything he hated. His face, his voice, his manners-it reminded him of every noble who had kicked and spit at him for the brand on his face.

It was only then, when he had brought him to his level, that he saw they were the same. His face was the same face he had when his father walked away forever, the face he had when Rica’s father reject her for being a girl, when his mother reached for the bottle and never let it go. When the last piece of bread was snatched from his child hands, and when Beraht walked into their house and claimed Rica.

And this filled him with shame. Shame that he never felt before. He had done more dubious things than this but only this has brought the intense shame he was feeling now. He cannot explain why, not even to himself. Only that he knew that this victory is hollow, and all it has accomplished is the turning of the wheel.

But a victory nonetheless. But it’s something he could not savor.

“Say, Rica.”

“Huh?” She did not take her eyes at her prince and now king.

“I have to go.”

His sister looked at him. “Where?” she thought he was not welcome in his order any longer. She could not think why he has to go, when he could live in comfort as the King’s brother in law and hopefully, uncle to the next King. Surely he could not think of going away to fight the darkspawn and die for his efforts?

He shrugged. “Amma Warden. There’s still gonna be fightin.”

“But…I thought you said they didn’t want you back?”

  
“Am gonna make them take me back.”

Rica did not know what to say. She did not want to part with him again. She wanted her brother with him so they could be a family once more but now with their future brighter. But she looked at him and saw that he was not her old brother anymore. Something had changed; he is not his old self where anger just bubbled under the surface but more…peaceful? He is seeing something she could not see, and though she did not like it, she knew that she had to let him go.

“Then may the Stone watch over you,” she said, and hugged him.

“Take care of yourself and mother.”

“I will,” she promised and released him. “Be careful, brother.”

Brosca nodded and with one final sweep of the revelers, he left.

They say dwarves do not dream. They were wrong.


	90. Chapter 90

Vive la revolution, as the Orlesians might say.

So the hated class system is overthrown, the nobles got what they deserved and the heir of a popular bloodline is made king. Everyone is celebrating the new age of Orzammar; the future with darkspawns defeated, trade flourishing, and basically doing what you want, without fear of repercussions. Everyone is now on the fair way to wealth and happiness.

As for the dwarf, he’s fine. He’s preparing to head to the surface, to see what lots of sunshine and plenty of (surface) air will do for him.

The Wardens were in the Hall of Visitors, just before the great doors. Thorin looked back at his companions as they made last minute checks with their gear. The mages had stocked on lyrium and the rest on weapons and armor of the quality that can only be found in Orzammar. At last everyone said they were ready, even Tabris whose pack is wobbling.

He was about to lead them out, when he heard a voice calling for him. He turned around and found Brosca running towards them. He waited until he reached them, doubling over, trying to catch his breath.

“Why are you here?” he asked the duster.

Brosca took his time to recover his breath and slowly raised himself up to look him in the eyes. “Yer not gonna leave me behind. I’m comin with ye.”

“You’ve got a lot of nerve saying that. Why should we accept you after all that shit you’ve just pulled?”

He didn’t know how to answer that. This was certainly a spur of the moment decision for him, and he didn’t have Thorin’s skill of spewing pleasant-sounding shit. “Because, ….ye beat my ass?” he said finally.

Thorin just raised a brow at him.

“Look, I know I did wrong, alright? There’s nothin I can do about that now and nothin I can say is gonna let ye forget that.” Thorin still did not answer, which made him shift from one foot to the other. “But, ye know..we’re grey wardens. And grey wardens supposed to give ye second chances, aye? I didna know it then, first time I got in, but now…Just gimme this chance alright? I canna change the past, but I can do somethin’ after. To pay up fer what I’d done to ye. To all of ye,” he said, nodding at their companions. They did not nod back, so he turned back to Thorin. “Ye can send me to die like I did with ye, treat me like shit..hell, I’ll even kiss yer boots. I ain't got right to ask this..but can ye give me this?”

Thorin did not answer. Brosca hung his head and accepted that he’s never be allowed back, never be forgiven, when he heard him sigh. “You don’t have to do that. Because it doesn’t matter,” Thorin said and his heart started sinking when the dwarf turned his back to him.

“Get your stuff and watch the rear.”  

Brosca stood gaping at him for a moment then his friends pounced on him. “I’m glad you came back, you big dummy,” Tabris said, putting a hand on his shoulder as Neria hugged him. He looked around and saw the others were just as shocked as he was.They weren’t happy, Amadeus in particular. He frowned at him then ran after Thorin until he caught up to him. “You seriously can’t be thinking to take him back in after all he’s done,” he said, slowing down and matching his step on the dwarf’s.

“We’re not going on a picnic, Amadeus. If he wants to die, who am I to stop him?” the dwarf answered, still walking ahead.

 “But he betrayed us. You’re just going to forgive him, just like that?”

Thorin shrugged. “I ran out of fucks about it. And if you don’t feel the same way, may I remind you that you have to right to speak your opinion to his face?”

Amadeus stopped walking and stood looking at the dwarf. He looked at a loss of words for a moment, turned around on instinct and found Brosca looking at him. They stared at each other. “I’m watching you,” he blurted finally, and ran away to catch up to the other dwarf.

The doors were about to open before them when they heard another one calling for them.

“What now?” Thorin asked as a red-haired dwarf skidded to a stop in front of him. “Are the dwarves of Orzammar going to stop us from leaving step by step?”

“I'm the last, I think,” Oghren answered and heaved. He got his breath back and stood straight before him. “So, uh, you’re going back saving the topsiders,eh?” the warrior asked.

“That’s about right.”

“I heard you’re short of people to fight the spawn. I was just wondering if you need a man for that and if you do, well, here I am,” he said, spreading his arms.

Throin looked him over carefully. “It’s true we’re short of arms, but are you sure you want to leave Orzammar?”

 “Why not? I’ve got nothing there that I’d miss. People had been telling me for years I’m a useless lump of dwarf. Figured I’d rather be a useless lump outside than a useless lump over there. And our little jaunt in the Deep Roads fired me up real good so might as well tag along with you where you’d be getting more fights.”

“Well then, there’s nothing more to do. Welcome aboard.”   

“Oh great. So we have an old pervert to match the young one,” Amadeus said, with a glance at the Antivan elf, who grinned at him.

“Oh, I don’t know, Amadeus. I don’t think there’s any other group out there that have matching perverts,” Tabris said happily.

“' _ _We have matching perverts'__. Yes, that’ll surely work wonders for recruitment.”

“Look on the bright side! Our enemies will be so terrified of us, they’ll be screaming when we say ‘Unleash the perverts’!”

Amadeus rolled his eyes and was about to go, when Oghren spoke up. “You’re a saucy one," he said to him, leering. "Just you wait, lady, you’ll drop that pout in no time when you see what I’ve got.”

“Uh, Oghren, you do know he’s a guy right?” Alistair said, while Tabris looked nervously at Amadeus, who looks about to explode.

Oghren’s smile faded. “Then what’s he doing in a dress?”

“It’s called robes, you uncultured piss-drinker!” Amadeus shouted at him.

“I can hear you without shouting, you stuck-up dog-lover!” he shouted back.

“I’m not Fereldan, I’m from Kirkwall.”

“Where’s that? Your piehole?”

“Getting acquainted, I see,” Thorin said drily, “but that’s enough for now. Both of you stay away from each other for the time being.” The two exchanged angry looks but did as he asked. Thorin waited until they’re out of arm’s reach of each other, before turning to Oghren. “I have to warn you though. We are not liable for injuries sustained by…inappropriate comments.”

The door opened and they walked through. They checked whether Loghain might have sent reinforcements to ambush them outside but there were none. It seems news of their arrival in Orzammar hasn’t reached Loghain yet, or he had and his people are on the way. In any case, they didn’t want to find out. They hurried through the marketplace outside the doors, when Oghren called them back. “Give me a moment,” he said, blinking at the great dark sky stretching above them.

“Are you alright?” Thorin asked him gently, knowing how a dwarf would feel to find himself outside for the first time.

“Of course I’m alright!” Oghren said harshly. “Urgh. Just give me a sodding minute.” He breathed heavily while looking at the sky, staring it down as if he was challenging it to do its worst. “By the stone, I feel like..I’m about to fall on the sky up there,” he said, his voice wavering.

“Can you cope with that?”

Oghren snorted. “If I could fight Volney’s second after downing fifteen mugs of lichen ale in an hour, I’m not going to be put off by a high sodding ceiling,” he answered, regaining his confidence.

 “Well, then let’s go.”

“On second thought, maybe a drink first.”

“Take your time.”

They waited quietly, enjoying the sight of the vibrant market around them. The place was lively; the wares of everything anyone could want displayed. People were walking to and fro, haggling, making inquiries and sellers wooing customers to their stalls, with one voice drowning out the rest: “Swords! Giant Swords! You won’t find this anywhere else!”

Sten stiffened, looking at the speaker and suddenly bolted toward him. The others gaped at him for a moment then ran after him. The seller saw him coming and smiled to see a customer at last. He was about to say his spiel again while showing off the sword, when Sten reached him and with one hand lifted him off the ground.    

“Sten! What do you think you’re doing? Put him down right now!” Thorin shouted at him when he saw people looking their way.

Sten ignored him and concentrated on the dwarf struggling in his grip. “Where is my sword?”

“Are you crazy? Let me go!” the seller cried, and tried kicking his face.  
“PUT HIM DOWN RIGHT NOW!”

Sten looked at Thorin and released the dwarf. When he reached the ground, the seller tried to made a run for it, but Sten’s hand shot out and gripped the back of his collar. The seller struggled futilely against him for while, then gave up. He scowled at them all.

Thorin looked at the dwarf then at the giant. “Well, Sten? What is this about?”

“He stole the swords of my people.”

“Stole?” the seller bumbled in his anger. “I stole nothing! All my wares are legit.”

“Then how did you end up with these swords?” the giant said, nodding at the weapons in the stall. “They are not of dwarven make.”

“I bought it off some chap from somewhere south, alright? Now let me go.”

“Not before you give me what I asked.”

At that point, Elissa came forward. “Please, let’s all be calm about this.” She turned to Sten. “Sten, why did you attack him?”

“He has my sword.”

“I don’t have anything of yours. I’ve never met you before,” the seller spat.

“It seems there’s a misunderstanding here, Mister-?”

“Faren, Miss, if someone cared to ask first. And no, I don’t have his bloody sword.”

Sten gave his collar a little shake. “But you are selling the swords of my people. It follows that you have mine.”

“What kind of sword is it?” Thorin asked.

Sten described the sword and they rifled through the store despite the seller’s protests. “It’s not here.”

“The hell it’s not! Because I don’t have your damn sword!” The seller was about to call the guards on them when Thorin put his face close to the seller. “Listen here, you’re selling something of my friend’s people without permission. That’s stealing, even if you’re not the one who nicked it in the first place and you just bought it. Now he just wants to have his sword back. You can cooperate, or we leave you to him to talk between yourselves. Which is it?”

The seller looked from one to the other and stayed silent.

Elissa finshed reading his sales book and stepped closer to him. “We just want his sword back,” she said gently. She looks so beseeching, the seller did not have the heart not to oblige her and stopped sulking. “I saw from your book that you sold one of them a few days ago. It must be that one. Do you remember who you sold it to?”

“Lady, even if I want to help you, I can’t. When I’ve got the money, and they’ve got the goods, that’s it. I’m not gonna be remembering them after.”

Sten loomed over him. “Try harder.”

“Alright! Alright! Get him off me.”

Thorin gave Sten a look and he loosened his hold. The seller adjusted his clothes and huffed. “I think I sold one to a dwarf going south. Said he has business at somewhere with a.. what was it…reddish rocks? Nothing special about him, save that there’s two humans with him. Gave me a fright with their faces. Painted, like they’re dead.”

“That’s not much to go on. Can you remember anything else? Names, clothes?”

“After they paid, I __minded__  my own business. Like anyone else.”

“We’re not getting anything more from him,” Thorin declared. “Do you really need to find this sword, Sten?”

“A sword is not merely a weapon. It is our soul. And I have lost it,” Sten said, releasing the dwarf completely. He did not look when the seller scampered away. “I shall die among the bas, for I am bas. If that be my end, then let me be useful.”  

They tried to tell him that it was not all that bad but he did not want to be comforted. “The darkspawn does not wait. We should get going,” he said, and resisted all attempts to make him talk throughout the journey.

* * *

At camp, the mood was very subdued, with what happened at Orzammar, Sten’s sword and Amadeus and Oghren’s little spat. So Thorin thought they needed a party. He said they didn’t welcomed Oghren properly so instructed Tabris to make dinner special. He himself went to his tent and fetched some fine ale he’d been keeping for occasions like this.

The others were skeptical of it at first, but aided with good food,good wine and good humour, they warmed up to it. He started it with talking about Oghren of their common experience, always choosing the stories with the funny anecdotes. Elissa knew what he was doing, and like a good lady, she kept the conversation going, occasionally asking questions to keep the others interested. Soon, they broke off into little groups, with Brosca and Oghren sizing each other up as they exchanged stories proving their dwarfiness while Tabris, Neria and Amadeus looked on, Zevran having the time of his life teasing the ladies and being scolded for it. Everything is as it should be.  

Soon, it was very late and he called an end to the party. Tabris and Brosca held Oghren up between them and headed to his tent as the dwarf sang drunkenly a bawdy song. Morrigna had already left while Leliana and Wynne lingered to talk about some theological issue. Neria crawled into her tent while Amadeus, Alistair and Mahariel drew lots for the watch.

Thorin was about to enter his tent when Elissa asked to talk with him. She gave him the Carta’s papers, explaining where she got it and told that the papers contain enough evidence to overthrow Bhelen and his supporters.

Thorin looked silently at the papers in his hand. “Thank you, Elissa. But I don’t think we’d be needing this.”

“Are you sure?”

“Yes. The last thing Orzammar needs is another war, and we need their troops. It needs rebuilding so this…this need to disappear.” He handed the papers back to her. “Burn it.”

“Er…are ye free?”

They both turned to see Brosca near them. Elissa frowned when she saw him. "I'll be going then," she said, drawing her skirts away from the duster. They did not speak and only looked at her as she left.

"You have a lot to make up to them," Thorin commented, when Elissa was out of earshot.

"Aye."

When she was gone, Thorin turned to him. “So, what is it?” he asked Brosca, his tone weary.

“Just wanna talk about..you know.”

He looked uncertain and humble, not defiant and confrontational as before. Thorin remembered the uneasy tensions they had at the past, when he gave orders while Brosca looked at him with resentment. He had planned on talking with Brosca about this, but with the amount of things he had to do, he had hoped that the duster would see that his actions are only for the best.

But it seems the resentment ran too deep for that. Then the events of the Anvil happened, and now he no longer had the heart to do it.

But fate has a twisted sense of humor, for Brosca was here standing before him, as the person he wanted him to be.  

“Brosca, I told you, it doesn’t matter. You’re back now and I’m not going to ask for your apology.”

“Right.” He let the silence last, making Brosca fidget. “So are you good?”

“Why does everyone keep asking me that?”

“I know how bad it is to lose hard. I just wanna know if you’re gonna be the same.”

“If you’re worried about how I lead henceforth, don’t. It’s true I lost a great deal of what I’ve believed in, but it doesn’t mean I’ve lost my self respect. Whatever, happened, and whatever will happen, I promise you: I will see all of you through this.

Brosca nodded. “Er..good.”

Thorin waited for him to follow it up but he just stood there mute. “Is there something else you’d want to talk about?”

“That’s it.”

Thorin nodded and bade him good night before going inside. Brosca didn’t go away immediately and just stood there, clenching his fist.

* * *

He should have said something more but his mind is as slow as usual. Thorin was different, he knew that now. He may look and talk like the noble he hated, but it ends there. The noble he knew would never have put his trust on him, never stopped him from charging the bridge and never would have saved him from the broodmother. Hell, he would have kicked him out the wardens out of spite as soon as Duncan’s dead. Thorin was none of that, yet he kept ignoring these signs out of hatred for his kind. And now the person he was is gone, all because of him.

He wished this was easy as swinging his sword and his troubles are over. He doesn’t know what to do now, knowing that Thorin would not accept his apology, and even if he had forced him to, it was still worthless. He thought it’d be easy then, that he would apologize and Thorin would go back to being what he was before. And he’d be less of a git, and Thorin would be less of a snob, and they’d be people they were fated to be, if only time had allowed.

It was useless standing there outside his tent so he walked toward his own. Tomorrow is another day and whatever happens, he would follow him. No matter how long it took, he will see, that he was put back together again.


	91. Chapter 91

The next day at dawn, Alistair caught Mahariel before she went before hunting.

He looked around for her, shivering in the cold air. The stars still linger overhead, their light only revealing her as a figure against the shadow.

“Good morning,” he croaked, his throat parched with cold and nervousness.

She tilted her head to the side, her forehead puckering under the light of the waning moon. “You are early. Today is not your watch.”

“I just feel like waking early.” He cast around for something to talk about first but the world only answered in chirps. He decided the direct approach is best. “So, are you off hunting?”

“Yes. I must see if my traps had caught anything during the night. I will be back by sunrise.”

“Are you sure you’re…alright?” She just looked at him silently. “I mean, you died, you know, back at the cavern. Your wound was pretty nasty and no one’s checked up on you. Are you supposed to be moving after all….that?”

He almost regretted asking her, for she smiled at him, her eyes glittering as it caught the moon’s light. It should have made her eyes look cold, but strangely, it made him feel warm and his face hot.

“Yes, I’m fine. The mage had closed the wound quite well. It had not bothered me since.”

“Well, that’s….great then! I was just going to offer to check your traps if your wound hadn’t healed yet. I know you’re going to just do your job without telling anyone that you need something.”

“Thank you for your concern, Alistair.” When he blushed and stammered, he did not notice she stepped closer to him and out a hand to his cheek. “I shall remember how you cared,” she said, still smiling. Her hand was warm and so is her eyes. The world fell away; only them are left. Under her eyes, he found the edges that separates him from the world and became aware of what truly makes him himself. Not a grey warden, not a bastard son; he was just himself and there is nothing to be ashamed of. Under her eyes, he did not need to hide. It was at this moment that he truly felt that he exists.    

Then it was over; she took her hand back, said farewell and passed him by.

If there was one thing he wanted, it was this: to be under those eyes again, where he was the only one who mattered.

* * *

He does not understand her.

Zevran pursed his lip in frustration as he watched Elissa move through the camp. With such encouragements he had received from her before the gates of Orzammar, it was only natural that he continue his suit after they dealt with their mission. He did it promptly and yet, the success he had every reason to expect did not materialise.

She did not seek him out, and did not encourage his attempts but instead preferred to talk to the others. But he felt her eyes on him, even across the camp, and when he teased her about it, she denied it.

Maybe she changed, her mind, he once thought. People are fickle, and she is no exception. And he won’t be the fool who pines after someone whose passion had already cooled. Just as he was about to drop his pursuit and move on, she came back and started paying attention to him again. He asked her playfully about this change of heart, and she playfully answers him that no, nothing has changed; it’d be rude of her not to talk to him. They exchange quips like before, until she withdrew again and he thought of things to get her interested in him again.

So this is where they are now: he advances, she retreats. He moves back, she moves forward, and on and on and on. It’s like a dance, where he doesn’t know the steps and how it ends, driving him crazy-

Of course. Of course.

He laughed as he realized what she was doing.

So she thinks she can play him, like a cat with a ball of string? To make him surrender to her, offering her his heart on her feet, doubtless like so many poor men before him?

Unfortunately for her, he is also familiar with this game. If this is how she wants to play it, then so be it. His true plan has not changed. In the meantime, what’s wrong with having a little fun?

* * *

The next day, Zevran found himself close to Leliana as they marched and seized his chance.

“So I imagine it has been some time for you, Leliana,” he asked her.

“Some time for me? I do not know what you mean.”

“Some time since you last knocked boots, shall we say? You did just come from the cloistered life, no?”

“Of course it has been some time. There are more important things in life than "knocking boots," Zevran.”

“ Oh, I'll not argue that. I simply mean that the body has urges, urges given to us by the Maker. Yours must be... considerable. After all that time.”

She drew back. “That is a very personal question,” she said, frowning.

 “I mean no offense. I simply offer my services should you ever feel the need for... release.”

“Let me think about it, then. Should every man in Ferelden suddenly die, you may even have your chance,”she said and moved ahead.

“A-ha! Progress!”

In more ways than one. His little ploy has successfully brought out his true target.

‘So, you and Leliana were being friendly,” Elissa said, walking beside him.

“I had simply offered my services if she finds her life unbearably dull.”

“And you think you’re the one to do that?”

“Why not? I have the looks and most importantly, the skills. As I have told you.”

“I remember,” she said, smiling.

“You remember? And I suppose you’ve come to accept? It’s an experience you’ll never forget, I promise you.”

“As you say. But Lelian is a friend of mine, and Tabris I consider my brother. He wouldn’t be happy to know you were flirting with Leliana,” she said, looking at the elf ahead. Fortunately, he was too engrossed with scouting as not to hear about their conversation, or know what Zevran was up to behind his back.

“I think he would be capable of telling me that himself. Besides, he should know by now not to leave his….valuables unattended.”

“That’s not very good of you to flirt with a woman engaged to another.”

“I know! I am a very, very bad man,” he said, laughing. “I never claimed to be a saint. And if she returns my affections, why, who should tell her that it is wrong? And since when has love has ever been wrong?”

“You don’t love her. You were just playing with her feelings.”

“Yes, because I knew love is a game. It is a painful lesson I have learned recently.”

She raised her brow at him. “Oh? What happened?”

“I have confessed my feelings on a lady whom I knew felt the same way. But she accepted my love and used it to torment me. It is cruel, no?”

“Perhaps she was unsure if you’re sincere.”

“In that case, she would have refused me and that would be it. I would not be hopelessly doubting of our affection for each other. It is cruel of her to leave my mind and my heart in such agony.”

“This coming from a man who boasted of his conquests? Who left those who loved him in tears and begging for him to return?”

“It was not kind of me, I knew that now. She made me see it. She is special that way.”

She hid a smile at that. “If she were, then you wouldn’t mind any trouble to win her affection, would you?”

He was speechless as she left him.

When she was gone, he looked to the sky and groaned. They were no nearer than before.

* * *

Meanwhile, Alistair was looking at the ground pensively when Leliana caught up to him. She walked in step with him but he did not turn his head to her.

“Hello, Alistair. Is..something bothering you?” she asked, because _Alistair_ and _pensive_ normally don’t go together.

He was startled out of his reverie and immediately stammered “Nothing.” She saw he needed to be alone with his thoughts and so moved to go away, when he called her back. “I want to ask you something.”

“Go ahead.”

“So... you're female, Leliana, right?”

Leliana looked at Alistair in mock surprise. “I am? That's news. When did that happen?”

“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean it that way. I just…wanted some advice. What should I do if... if I think a woman is special and…” he trailed off, a blush creeping up from his neck.

Leliana was delighted with this display and was already thinking about the lucky lady. “You want to woo her? Here's a good tip: you shouldn't question her about her female-ness.”

“All right, yes. Good point.”

“Why do you ask? Are you afraid things will not proceed naturally?”

Alistair’s shoulders slumped. “Why would they? Especially when I do things like ask women if they're female.”

“ It adds to your charm, Alistair. You are a little awkward. It is endearing.”

“So I should be awkward? Didn't you just say not to do things like that?”

“Just be yourself. You do know how to do that, don't you?”

“All right, forget I asked.”

At this moment, Tabris came close to the two of them but only heard the latter part of the conversation. He waited for Leliana to walk away, before he pounced on Alistair.

“How do you do it?” the elf asked, startling him.

“Do what?”

“You know, have all the girls swooning over you?”

“That’s, ah…” The blush was creeping up his neck again.

Thankfully, Brosca came to the rescue. “Just be handsome,” he suggested.

“Now, that’s just mean,” the elf replied.

* * *

While Tabris, Brosca and Alistair were sitting together to rest after eating lunch, Oghren unexpectedly joined them.

“Oghren. You’re looking….sober,” Tabris commented. The dwarf doesn’t look drunk as he was wont to do these days. Maker knows how he can fight the next day without suffering a hang-over. But today he looks pissed.

“Heh. I thought nothing’s weirder than you Wardens. Proves me right when I see some guy prancing around in a skirt,” Ogren said, dropping on the grass beside them.

“Oh, you mean Zevran?”

The dwarf snorted. “When I joined up, I thought I’d be ass-kicking, not ass-peeping.”

“I thought you liked that,”Alistair joked.

“Thunderhumpers! Not his ass!” He turned around to face them. “You’re not bothered by that?”

“Not really. I thought it’d be useful like you know, in a pinch, we’d tell him to lift his skirt and blind people,” Tabris answered.

“You’ll get used to it,” Alistair assured him.

“Nah. I’ll just drink till I can’t remember shit about seeing his skinny ass.”

A thought occurred to Alistair. “So is this why you drink everyday?”

“What? You think I just drink for nothing?”

“Yes. Along with the farting and the burping. Like a package. A dwarf package, straight from Orzammar. Got all the bells and whistles you might need for your parties.”

“Huh.” An image of the elf’s nether regions came unbidden and he shuddered in disgust.

“Talking about me, I see,” Zevran said smiling as he appeared behind them. He passed Oghren with a flirtatious swing of his skirt.

Oghren scowled. “Wear some damn pants you freak,” he hissed at the elf.

“What? You might need to grow a little taller, my friend, because I can’t hear you from up here.”

Oghren grumbled about having to fetch his ax to shorten him enough. Zevran laughed as he sat on the other side of him.

“Charming as you are, my dear dwarf, I have to disappoint you. I am only a poor elf, forced to survive on my wits and…charms,” he said, stretching his long, shapely  legs one and then the other in front of them. Then he crossed them, the edge of the skirt resting just above his knees, and smiled at them, who just stared back. “I would have worn pants, but people are so passionate these days, they don’t leave it to those who knew best. Like me! So people like to see first what they’re getting. Pants would be troublesome, so here I am with a skirt.”

“Interesting. Can we move on?” Alistair said, looking around.

“But seriously, Fereldans are such tough customers. An elf is freezing while displaying his wares but no one invites him in and keep him warm.”

“Because you’re an assassin. We’re not completely stupid, you know,” Alistair said.

Tabris chuckled. “No one’s going to sleep with you out of pity, Zevran.”

“Alas! I am denied again. It seems I am to spend my days cold and alone.”

“That’s because I’ve seen bigger,” Tabris said. They all stared at him. When they kept staring, he smiled and said “Mine of course. Haha, the looks on your faces.”

“Oh? Forgive me if I seem…doubtful but many men had made such a claim. But sadly, I find they were only referring to their egos,” Zevran said.

“Are you trying to make me show you what’s in my pants?”

Alistair finally had enough. “If you’re going to talk about that, I’ll just gonna go,” he said, standing up and walking away.

Brosca seconded that and Oghren followed them, even as Tabris laughingly asked them to come back.


	92. Chapter 92

It was rare for Morrigan to laugh. It was even rarer that she would do so with genuine delight, not malice. But when she does, her laugh was very beautiful.

She inhaled sharply as she examined his gift to her.“I scarcely believe it,” she said, looking at it with glittering eyes.

Thorin smiled to see her reaction. Though it was not unwelcome, it seemed beyond what he expected to get from her with that trinket he bought back in Orzammar. “You’re really very pleased with just that?”

“You have no idea what means to me. When I was a child, curious and naive about the world, I occasionally sneak out of the Wilds to spy on towns despite my mother forbidding me. One day, I happened upon a noblewoman by her carriage, adorned in sparkling garments the likes of which I had never before seen. I was dazzled. This, to me, seemed what true wealth and beauty must be. I snuck up behind her and stole a hand mirror from the carriage. Twas encrusted in gold and crystalline gemstones and I hugged it to my chest with delight as I sped back to the Wilds."

Normally, a child stealing would have worried him, but this time, it only amused him. “And what happened next? What did your mother do?”

“She knew what I had done and she was furious with me.  I was a child and had not yet come into my full power, and I had risked discovery for the sake of a pretty bauble. To teach me a lesson, Flemeth took the mirror and smashed it upon the ground. I was heartbroken."

She held up the mirror in front of her, where her reflection smiled back at her.  "This is just the same as the mirror which Flemeth smashed on the ground, so long ago. It is incredible that there is still one like it,” she said softly. For a moment, her face shone in delight, putting a sparkle in her eyes, sweetness in her smile andmade her beauty cease to be merely physical. Then her eyes turned cold once again, and she looked at him with calculation. “Such a pretty gift does not come by easily,” she said, her voice losing its warmth. “You must wish something in return, certainly."

He shrugged. “I just feel like giving today.”

She raised a brow. “Indeed? Is there another reason why I am the only one receiving a gift today?”

He spread both his hands in front of him. “I’m a generous man.”

“And not a humble one, I see,” she said with a smile. “Your gift is most thoughtful. You have my thanks.”

He nodded at her and went on his way.

* * *

“I could never imagine what you went through,” Tabris said when Leliana told him about the mission that brought her to Ferelden. He glanced to the side, on her hand resting on the grass as they sat together in front of their tent after dinner. He reached out and clasped it. “I’m really grateful that you entrusted your past to me.”

She put her other hand on top of him. “I am also grateful that you listened. Just talking with you makes me feel like a heavy burden has been lifted off.”

He smiled, she smiled. Then he bowed his head and laughed in embarrassment. She did the same, only with merriment. It was one of those moments where people laugh without reason, where happiness is enough for laughter.

Her eyes fell on their clasped hands. His hands were callused at similar spots  just as hers which she found curious. “How did you learn how to fight?”

“Oh, that. My mother taught me. She’s dead, now.”

“I’m sorry.”

“It’s alright. It was a long time ago.”

“Do you miss her?”

“Sometimes. But I have her daggers.” He brought out one of them, and handed it to her hilt first. They admired the handle with a carving of a halla’s head,then the blade made of ironbark. “Whenever I hold them, I feel she’s with me, and then I don’t feel lonely anymore.”

“Tell me about her.”

And so he told her. When she asked about her name, he told her it was Adaia.

“Adaia?” she asked with surpise.

His brow furrowed at her reaction. “Yes. That’s her name.”

She studied his face for a moment and asked whether she matched a description of someone she knew. He replied that his mother is as she described and she clapped her hands in joy.

“So that was her name!”

“You met my mother?”

“Yes. I can’t believe this. I’m sad she’s dead; I wished I could’ve met her again. But then I met you.” When he atill look at her in confusion, she explained further. “The elven woman I’ve met in the dungeons. I’m sure she’s your mother. She once told me-Oh! She once told me she’ll tell her son about me. She meant you, and here we are.”  

 His jaw dropped. “The red-haired Orlesian girl. That was you! She did tell me about you,” he said, joining in her delight.

“Did she? This is more than a coincidence.”

“Yes it’s almost like…fate.”

“Or the Maker’s will.”

He was about to kiss her when Neria walked up to them. She pulled at Tabris’ arm. “C’mon. Let’s go! I saw something in the woods.”

“Later, Neria,” he said, not taking his eyes off Leliana.

Neria looked at him then at her. She saw them locked in a look that excluded all else; unintetional and completely engrossing. There she felt there was no room for anyone else, including her.

Her lips twisted in a snarl but she marched back to where Brosca was sitting.

“It’s not fun here anymore,” she said, setting herself down beside him  like a sack of potatoes. She drew her knees up her chin and rested her head on top of them.

Brosca looked at the two and knew what had passed. “So Tabris canna come and play today?” he teased the elf.

She only scowled deeper as she watched.

Borsca looked at the elf with amusement. He couldn’t tell with elves, but he estimated that she’s about one or two years off before knowing about love and its delightful selfishness. “Ye know, when ye grow older, ye might like some people too. Yer gonna see someone and yer gonna think they’re the best thing yev ever seen.” She snorted.  “And yer gonna be doin like that-”

She botled upright, drawing her hands to her sides where it burst into flames. “I’m not! I’m not!”

“Alright, Alright! Now put those fires away,” he said, frantically batting the flames that sprouted around them. “Stone-dammit, Runt! Am just sayin.”

* * *

The next day, Neria clung tightly to Elissa. When Zevran came by to flirt, she stared so hard at him that the elf thought he should stay away for a while.

When he was gone, Neria looked up at her. “So Zevran, is he your boyrfreind?” she asked suddenly.

“He’s just a friend to me and to you too,” Elissa answered, a bit puzzled at where she got this idea.

“So he is going to call you his girlfriend?”

Her face grew hot. “Well..”

“Are you gonna make moo-eyes at him?”

She stared at Neria, completely bewildered now.

“Dooon’t! You’ll go stupid!” the elf said, clinging tighter to her. “You’re going to end up like Jowan. Everything went bad when he started looking at that cow Lily. I don’t want to lose you too.”

“It’s alright, Neria. You’re not going to lose me,” she said, patting her head and trying not laugh.

“Promise me you won’t make moo eyes at him?”

“Why would she not? ” Zevran said returning to them. He eavesdropped on their conversation and could not resist cutting in. “There is no harm making eyes at me. I happen to relish the attention, particularly when it comes from a very beautiful lady.”

Neria made a face, as usual when the Antivan is near. “Ugh. If you’re just gonna say again that she’s pretty, you’re an idiot.We all knew she’s pretty obviously,” she said, with an eye-roll.

“Then accept my deepest apologies. Her face has me in raptures, it makes me want to say it again and again.” Neria was about to make another irritated noise- “but I see that those around her is pretty too, like a bud beside a bloom. A belladonna bud,” he added with a wink at Elissa.  

“Hmm, belladonna? Is that a flower? A pretty flower? I don’t know that one so I guess I haven’t seen it.”

“It is a pretty flower,” Zevran said soothingly. “It’s even prettier when it blooms. Ah, happy is the bee that plays in its petals-”

Unfortunately, Thorin came up to them for his usual peptalk and found out an elf was giving them the other talk. He looked at them all, anger gathering on his brow, pulling his jaw taut and deepening his scowl.

“Zevran,” he growled, “I know you grew up in a whorehouse but that doesn’t mean some of us had to relive it too.”

“Ach! I think my heart is thoroughly broken,” Zevran clutched dramatically at his chest.

“I’ll break more than your heart if you keep this up. Now scat.”

“Another time, then, ” Zevran said at Elissa. He stood up and made a bow at her, then walked away with a smile on his face.

A moment passed before Neria piped up. “What’s a whorehouse? I know what a whore is, so is a whorehouse a place where whores go to sleep?”

* * *

As they marched, Zevran suddenly felt a malevolent presence behind his back. He turned around and saw Neria’s emerald eyes staring intensely back up at him.

“I’m watching you,” she hissed.

“I know. I am simply too irresistible for anyone not to, yes?”

“Like I’m watching a dungbeetle roll shit uphill.”

“I’ve been compared to a lot of things but….. a dungbeetle? You wound me.”

“Don’t think I don’t know what you’re doing with Elissa!”

“Then please, Patatina, enlighten me.”

Neria crossed her arms and widened her stance, perhaps, to add…….intimidation? It looked rather funny on her tiny frame.

“You’re making her do crazy things.”

“Me? I would never dare do such a thing to my amore.”

Neria narrowed her eyes. “Amore, Patawhatcha-call-it, I don’t even know half of the words you’re saying. I know those words is making her just as confused as I am, so that’s why she’s making these stupid decisions. So go away, ”she said, conjuring fire on her palm and shoved it right under his nose, “Before I send you to-wherever you come from-on a fireball.”

Zevran chuckled at the protectiveness of the young elf-mage. “I assure you, she is not confused by my words. And as for making her do crazy things, alas, what could I do? I have that effect on people. It is a curse I sadly must bear.”

“Whatever. I want you to bear it alone.”

He only smiled in answer and faced forward.  

“I know what a whore is,” she suddenly exclaimed.

“Oh? Then please enlighten me.”

She crossed her arms and put her chin up as she walked. “They’re always all over you. Back at the tower, there’s this girl who was really clingy and stuff to someone in my class. She was always touching you and telling you like you’re the best and always asking you to do stuff and one of them shouted at her to go away whore.”

Zevran tried to suppress his laughter. “Your explanation is…interesting but it is lacking something.”

“What?”

“You see, a whore is-”

At that moment, Thorin loomed behind them and shot Zevran a look. Without turning away from him, he said to Neria that Elissa was calling her. Neria was not pleased to be interrupted in showing the Antivan how smart she is but she did as he asked. When she was gone, Zevran chuckled and said to him. “Must you stare at me so sternly, my friend?”

 “What were you doing?”

“I am simply helping your fellow Grey Warden understand about a few things. I find she is lacking in experience in some..matters and being such a gentleman, I offered to help her. ”

“She doesn’t need to hear any experience from you.”

“Does she? Are you sure? I have many delightful tales to tell her.”

Thorin used his ax to point at Zevran. “Stay away from her.”

“Ah, yes, here it is, the typical brotherly concern. Or is it something else? Perhaps you are angry for being...ignored?

“I don’t know what you are talking about. But I’m warning you: Stay away from her.”

Zevran sighed.“As you wish.”

The dwarf put his ax away. “Don’t make me regret taking you in,” he said.

“And miss hearing all my witty remarks?” Zevran shook his head at him mockingly. “I sincerely advise you not to do it.”

* * *

Zevran found out that he cannot talk to Elissa as easy as before. Because instead of only one guard, she had now two.

The dog was easy to get past. He fed him treats, a little at a time, and played with him whenever he wished. After the obligatory threat of mauling him if he tries to do anything funny, Ser Barker barked his permission and let him court his mistress.  

The girl was different though. When ever he decided to talk to Elissa, he felt the girl’s eyes burning on his back. He would look around and saw her face, looking like an imp from hell. But a little girl never stopped him before and never will.

He tried complimenting her, but she either did not understand half of it or scornfully say that all he says is nonsense. He tried bribing her with food, but the girl acts as if she had the world’s best palate and said all his gifts taste like mud.

He complained of it one day. “What have I ever done to you?”

“I don’t like your face,” she answered, screwing hers into dislike.

“That can’t be helped. It is my face; I have no other. But don’t you think this is unfair?”

“What?”

He nodded at Leliana at a distance. “I see the bard is doing the same thing to your other Warden and you allow her to talk with him as she pleases. And yet you don’t allow me to do the same thing,” he complained.

Neria looked around to where Lelianna and Tabris where talking. “Oh you mean Leliana?” She turned back to him. “She’s nice. She tells me stories before bed.”

“I could tell you a story.”

“About what?”

He smiled. “It’s called The Contessa and her cicisbeo.”

“The Contessa and her what?”

“Cicisbeo,” he repeated, loudly.

Unfortunately, Elissa heard it and whirled around. “Zevran!” she snapped, and beckoned him to her campfire with a crook of her finger.

Zevran smiled excused himself to Neria. He went to Elissa and bowed. “I am at your service.” 

Elissan pat the space beside her, When he was seated, she whispered “What were you saying to Neria earlier?”

“Ah. I only offered to tell the young lady a story before her bedtime.”

“And what story is that?”

He told her the title. For everyone’s information, it is a bawdy story of a contessa and her ingenious attempts to hide her lover from her husband when he comes home. It was a famous tale, known for its details of various and often ….creative positions. It is a staple in every Antivan household; a boon of parents for those pesky teenage years. And it has a happy ending. Obviously not for the husband.

She shook her head and said “I don’t think that’s an appropriate story to tell to a young girl.”

“Ah, but why not tell them when they are young? How can they grow up to be such little goddesses, sent here to torment poor men like me?”

“I still don’t think it’s appropriate for her age.”

“But for you, my lady?”

“I don’t think it’s appropriate at all for public reading.”

“But wouldn’t you say that the forbidden tastes sweeter exactly because it is forbidden?”

She smiled. “Don’t tempt me.”


	93. Chapter 93

“Here, look at this. Do you know what this is?”

Alistair was holding out a rose to Mahariel. She looked at it, noting the deep red of the petals, in beautiful contrast to the green leaves. The stem was sturdy, holding aloft the fragile blossom. She was puzzled as to why he is offering this to her when she noticed the  sharp thorns. “Your new….weapon against darkspawn?”  

Alistair brandished it around. “Yeah, that’s right! Watch as I thrash our enemies with the mighty power of floral arrangements! Feel my thorns, darkspawn! I will overpower you with my rosy scent. Muahaha.”

This man is very ridiculous. She couldn’t help but smile at this display of absurdity.

Alistair stopped his mock laughing. “Or you know, it could just be a rose. I know that’s pretty dull, in comparison.”

“It is not dull,” she assured him. “Is there another reason why you have brought this to me?”

 “I..uh..picked it a while back,” he said, putting a hand at the back of his head and looking away. Then he seemed to brace himself for something, dropped the hand, expelled a breath and turned serious. “ I remember thinking, how could something so beautiful exist in a place with so much sadness and ugliness. I probably should have left it alone but I couldn’t. The darkspawn would come and their taint would just destroy it. So I’ve had it ever since.”

“That is an admirable sentiment.”

“I..thought I might give it to you, actually. In a lot of ways, I think the same thing when I look at you.”

She stood still, her heart loud in her ears as she thought about what he said. Her chest feel tight and her face was curiously warm.

He saw her expression and wordlessly, he offered the rose.

Like a dream, she took it, and heard herself say “Thank you. This..is lovely.”

He smiled. “I’m glad you like it. I was just thinking…here I am doing this all complaining and you haven’t exactly been having a good time of yourself. You’ve had none of the good experience of being a grey warden since the joining, barely a word of thanks and congratulations. It’s been a lot of death and fighting and tragedy. I thought maybe I could say something. Tell you what a rare and wonderful thing you are to find amidst all this…darkness.”     

When she stayed silent, he started fidgeting again. “If we could move right on past this awkward, embarassing stage and get right to the steamy bits, I’d appreciate it,” he said hurriedly.

She didn’t know what steamy bits he was talking about, but by his tone, it must be good.

 “You are nervous.”

“Oh? Maybe another time then, when I’m you know, less nervous. Ah, all the ladies go on and on about how suave I am. I don’t know how you can resist me like you do.” He looked around for something to talk about, then settled at the sky. “Oh look, is that a cloud? I expect rain. Ho-hum.”

She smiled, seeing him squirming with embarrassment. She laid a hand on his cheek, directing him to look at her.  

“You are endearing in your bashfulness. Thank you for your gift.” She let him go. “I shall treasure this.”

He blushed a deeper shade of red. “Well I’ll be..standing over there. Until the blushing stops. Just to be..uh..safe. You know how it is,” he said and wiggled away.

* * *

After Mahariel had left, Alistair was pretty pleased with himself, until he turned around and found Neria, Brosca and Tabris at the campfire, snickering at him. His question of “What?” had only made the snickering go to full blown laughter. When the laughter died down, a little bit of pity had returned to Brosca. “You know, lad, amma cheer for ye wooin her, but yer doin it wrong.”

“Wooing her? You think I-no. I’m not courting her. I just, um, gave her something because I was being nice,” Alistair stammered while blushing up to his ears. He really isn’t ready for their teasing.

“Really? What about the- Brosca mimicked in a sappy voice-” I saw it and thought of ye. That bein nice, eh?”

He was as red as the rose he just gave away. “That’s not what I-anyway, what are you doing, eavesdropping on other people’s conversations? Hadn’t your parents taught you manners?”

Tabris held up a placating hand. “Now, don’t change the subject. We’re trying to help, we really do. After we stop laughing.”  

Alistair put his hands on his hips and narrowed his eyes at them. “Alright, what kind of help are you talking about because this,”-he gestured to them still chuckling-”isn’t helping.”

“Alright. Stop laughin, both of ye," Borsca scolded his companions. "We’re tryna help our brother here." He wiped his eyes before turning to Alistair. “Look, we three went to Mahariel’s kind in that soddin forest and lemme tell you: when ye wanna make an elf girl love ye, ye hunt sum deer, or wolf or sumthin with fur, skin them and bring back the fur to her. That’s how them elf-girls know yer the man for them. ”

Realization hit Alistair like an ogre. “And I just gave her a plant. A bloody plant.” The trio started laughing again.

“Ye know lad, ye make a great hunter. All these weeds must be tremblin at ye.”

“Brosca, don’t be mean. The rose must have put up a fight with the, you know, thorns. It must have gave him some….manly scars at least,” Tabris said, stifling his laugh. A second passed; he could not hold it in and so started laughing again.

“Thanks for all of your support. I’m really feeling better now. Let me just find a deep hole and crawl in it,” Alistair said and went over a log and sat despondently, his face in his hands. A moment later, he raised his head. “She must think I’m an idiot.”

“Oh reeeelax. She already knows that. It can’t get any worse,” Tabris said, which earned him a scowl. “Best case scenario, she thinks it’s some bizarre human ritual.”  

“Riiiiiiiight.”

The elf walked over, sat beside him and draped an arm over his shoulder. “Anyway,if you want make it up to her, you could go get some pelt tomorrow. Or better yet, why don’t you talk Morrigan to turn into a wolf or something and then gut her and skin her? Solves all your problems.”

“Yeah. Why don’t you do that? Dying would solve all your problems, as I’m sure you’ll never win against her,” Neria sneered.

“Ignore her,” Tabris advised him while giving a look at Neria.

“I think I might just do that. Dying I mean. With or without Morrigan,” Alistair said, his head on his hands again.

 “Ach, donna say that. We’ll help ye get some fur and ye be alright,” Brosca offered and patted his arm.

* * *

The next day at camp, Mahariel was mending their armors when she sensed  Alistair looking at her. She turned around, but he quicky turned away. She frowned, puzzled at his reaction. But it seems he did not want to explain and it was wasteful dwelling on that so she was about to resume her task, when he suddenly appeared near her.

“Can we talk? Privately,” he said.

She nodded. She followed Alistair away from the camp, noticing the trio trying to hide that they’ve noticed. Her back turned, she heard them elbow each other and sneak away out of sight.

“Is there something you want to tell me?” she asked, when they were out of earshot of everyone.

“Alright. I guess I really don’t know to ask this,” he said, his face half hidden in shadow.

“You are sweating.”

Alistair frantically checked himself. “No! I mean yes, I’m a little nervous to be sure. Not that it is anything bad or frightening or …well, yes. Oh how do I say this? You’d think it was easier, but everytime I’m around you, I feel my head’s going to explode. I can’t think straight.”

She held his hand and squeezed it, telling him to go on. He placed his hand over hers. “Here’s the thing: being near you makes me crazy, but I can’t imagine being without you. Not ever. I don’t know how to say this another way but I want to spend the night with you. Maybe this is too fast, I don’t know but…I know..what I feel.”

She looked blankly at him. Then she said “If you want me to stay awake with you, then I would.”

He stared at her. “Um, no. That’s not what I meant. Brosca said something about this. Here.” He gave a wrapped parcel to her. When she looked inquiringly at him, he said. “Open it. I want to show you that I am serious. About us.”

She removed the wrapping and looked at his gift, running her hand along the smooth fur. It was very good pelt, showing that the animal was in its prime and not have been sick when it was taken. It was certainly splendid, the most perfect bonding gift she has ever seen, even though it came through the hands of a human-

She jerked from those train of thoughts and looked up. He was looking at her expectantly.

“Well? Don’t you like it?”

“This…is certainly beautiful,” she stammered. “But I..cannot accept this.” She felt a pang of regret when she handed it back to him.

At those words, Brosca knew this was a deal about to go down, so he pulled the elves by the ears and away from the bush they were spying from.

“Hey, watch it! That’s a sensitive part right there,” Tabris winced as the dwarf’s grip tightened on his ear.

“That’s why I haul ye off by that so ye don’t go fightin me.”

“Why? What’s happening?” Neria asked. But Brosca just pulled them away, out of earshot.

Meanwhile, Alistair looked hurt at the return of his gift. “Oh..alright. But why?”

She turned away from him. “You..wished to bond with me?”

“What?”

“You wish to be with me, in sleeping and waking, in sickness and in health, in hardship or wealth, with only love between us?”

“Hm, that sounds familiar…but yes, that’s basically what I want.”

She had enjoyed his companionship for far too long. When did she start to forget about what he is? Inexplicably, she had grown fond of him. His earnestness, his antics; it brought a smile to her face and cheer to her heart. No matter how long and how hard the day has gone, at the end of it, he will be there, and it doesn’t feel so bad anymore.  

Yes, she was lonely and she was sad. No matter how silently she bears it, she misses her clan. Her friend. Her mother. Her elders. She remembers her promise to their keeper and she tries to, but it’s hard. She doesn’t know why she was here, or why she should care.

She has no answers for that. But his incompetence at first gave her something to do to distract her from these thoughts and prevented her from fully experiencing the feelings they entail. Then his reading and his antics have replaced it when he became able, until finally she forgot who they are.

She is an elf; he is a human and he will never be a part of her people.

She turned away from him. As the silence lasted, Alistair felt, with growing dread, that she will turn him down. “Did I..do something wrong?”

“No. You did well. It’s that I-we-” She turned to face him, her face in despair,  hands spread to show her helplessness. “We have never chosen a mate outside our kind before. It is not good for the clan.”

“Oh” He thought she had moved past their being elf and human.

“You were so-everything I had wished for-but I can’t-I can’t” She said, clutching her hair.

It has gone on for too long. The summer of happiness has passed; here comes the fall.  Is it worth it to stay, even through the winter?

 Is it worth it to abandon the way of the Dalish?

Then she went still and looked at him. There is only one thing she was sure of. “I cannot give you an answer right now. Forgive me,” she said, as she fled from him.

* * *

So things were definitely off between them. Mahariel avoided Alistair whenever she could, and Alistair was left to shift for himself.

It got so bad that one morning at breakfast, when Alistair arrived late than usual. Mahariel took one look at him, ate her food quickly and announced she will be out hunting, without waiting to hear their reply. Alistair watched her go with so much sadness on his eyes, even Morrigan noticed. “Indulge me; I have a strange thought," she said to them suddenly. "Only weeks ago, I saw a human running away from an elf. Now, I see an elf running away from a human. Why is that?” she wondered aloud.

“That’s none of your business,” Alistair muttered, getting angry.

“So does that mean they have ended their relationship, foolish as it was?”

“Shut up! I said that’s none of your business.”

“What? No questions allowed? You do not wish to unravel such delicious mystery as-”

“I SAID SHUT UP OR I WILL RUN A SWORD THROUGH YOU!”

Morrigan looked at him in surprise, then turned to the others, who looked as shocked as she was. “Tis most serious then,” she said, awkwardly. She blessedly did not continue ribbing him until they finished eating. Needless to say, breakfast that morning was a solemn affair.

Morrigan had gone back to her hut while Alistair excused himself, mumbling something about darning his armor and shining his socks. When they were out of earshot, Tabris laid back into the grass. “Oh, Maker, the two of them. I’m sorry for Alistair, but yelling in the morning? That can’t be good for our digestion, can’t it?”

“Poor Alistair,” Leliana  said, looking at the ex-templar with shoulders slumped as he walked away. 

Elissa looked at them all. “There’s got to be something we can do for them.”

“Like what?,” Tarbis said, sitting up. “Leave it Elissa, they have to work things out between them. I think they’re old enough for that.”

“But Alistair looks so sad without Mahariel. Like today. It’s been days now,” Leliana pointed out.

“Ah, he’ll get over it,” Tabris said, idly flicking a blade of grass from his shirt.

“Tabris,” Elissa scolded. “We have to help him.”

“I still think it’s none of our business.”

Elissa just stared at him.

Borsca tugged at his shirt and whispered. “Mebbe yer right. But ye know, we ain't sure we're not gonna die. Are ye gonna let one of us die a virgin?”

“If that’s the case, I’m in,” he said brightly.  “So, what’s the plan?” he asked, looking excitedly at them all.


	94. Chapter 94

Mahariel went back to camp at sundown, exhausted and dreading another chance to meet Alistair. She hated looking at him looking at her with hurt that tears at her heart and makes her resolve crumble into dust. But she has never strayed from the Dalish ways before and just the thought of abandoning it for a human terrifies her.

Then she saw the camp.

Everything was in disarray, the tents ransacked, their things scattered and everyone gone, except Elissa. She was wringing her hands and when she turned around at her, her face looks worried and...sorrowful?

“What has happened?” Mahariel asked, readying her bow.

“Oh Mahariel! We were attacked. And you have to hurry, because you see, Alistair is..is…” Mahariel look at her with dread, “He’s hurt bad. You have to come. He was asking for you.”

“Where is he?” she asked as she ran beside Elissa. “And if he’s hurt, where’s Amadeus?”

“I don’t know! It happened so fast. We were just sitting quietly then people came out and attacked us.  Then they kidnapped him. The others are trying to bring him back and Alistair…he was hurt.”

They reached the clearing where the templar was lying on his back, moaning weakly.

“I am here,” she said, when she reached him. She clasped his hand and squeezed letting him know she was at his side should. Alistiar squeezed it back.

“How bad was it?” Mahariel asked Elissa as she brought out bandages and elfroot from her pack. She made to strip his armor off to look closer at where the blood was pouring out, when Alistair stopped her. “No…no…”

“It’s alright,” she said and made to continue when he held her hands back.

“I’m dying, Mahariel,” he struggled to say.  “So please, don’t. I just want to spend the time looking at you.” Then a burst of blood gurgled out of his mouth.

“No! Please stay with me,” she said, clasping his cheeks and looking in his eyes.

“I can’t. I’m sorry. I just want you to know…..being with you….was the best in my life. Every moment of everyday……I just wish I could have more…but…it…was not meant to be…so…I just want to say…I love you..”

She had done. She was crying now. All this rule about marrying only from their own kind, upholding tradition-what good are those when she has to live without love?

“I feel the same way, vhenan. And I wish to be with you so please, stay with me.”

Alistiar smiled, then closed his eyes. She stared, not believing, then tried to shake him. When he did not wake, she put her head down and keened.

Except-wait. He was breathing evenly and his heart was beating. She looked back up and saw him looking at her with that goofy smile of his. “That wasn’t so hard, was it?” he asked.

She stared in shock for a moment, then she starting slapping his arm. Alistair held up his arms out to defend himself, laughing all the while.,

“Ow! Be gentle, I’m delicate!”

“You ridiculous-” she slapped his other arm, “ridiculous”-slap- “ridiculous”-slap- “human!” She continued slapping him until he rolled away from her, still laughing. “Oh, but you love me,” he said.

In spite of her anger, she smiled. She reached out and plucked a stray leaf out of his hair. “Yes. I think I do.”

On a bush further away, a straw haired head popped up alongside the dark blond one.

“I can’t believe that worked,” Tabris said, eyes wide as the two made up, while holding a dead pheasant, its throat cut.

“See? I told you it would work,” Elissa said smugly beside him.

“OOoooh, how sweet,” Leliana said with delight as she watched, her hands clasped under her chin.

“ _ _Amadeus was kidnapped,”__ Amadeus mimicked behind them. _ _“__ Like some damsel _ _.__ Really, Elissa?” he asked her with resentment.

“I can’t think of everything,” she pouted.

He dropped trying to get an explanation from her . “I can’t believe I’m part of this.”

“Well, this is your idea. How d’you know Mahariel will confess if Alistair pretended to be dying?” Tabris said, still watching at them.

“Being at death’s door makes people honest, ” Amadeus replied. As he watched the two, he added “It’s sickening.”

“Well, it’s working. It’s morbid, but it’s working,” Tabris said and turned to Elissa. “Good job convincing Alistair, Elissa. I never knew he could act.”

“I’m quite persuasive, you know. But I wouldn’t have done this without you, Amadeus,” she said, trying to make up to the mage.

He rebuffed her. “Leave me out of this. I don’t want this credited to me. Just the thought of all this makes my stomach turn. ”

Tabris stood up. “Well, I think we’re done. Let’s fetch the others. I hate to think what Thorin would say when he finds our camp deserted.”

“Oh, Zevran and Brosca might have led Morrigan somewhere north, I think.”

They finally have gathered the others, leaving the two alone. Unfortunately, when they reached the camp, they found Thorin, Wynne and Sten standing there, their things scattered all around them. It was too late to hide as the dwarf spotted them, so there was no choice but to go to him. When they were standing in front of him, Thorin looked at them one by one. “Someone had better explain.”

* * *

At camp, Brosca noticed Tabris was twitchy than usual. He’s been looking at their tents, peeking at his pots and muttering something for the past hour. When he saw him go over the same spot he had been before, he had enough.

“Alright. What’s got yer crack itchin?” he asked the elf.

Tabris gave a sigh of despair and irritation before he answered. “Have you seen any nug anywhere?”

“Nug? What’re ye gonna use that for?”

“Something,” he said, looking evasively. “Anyway, have you seen it?”

“Nah. Why donna we ask somebody?” He was about to raise his voice when Tabris asked him to stop.

“It’s supposed to be a secret,” he explained at his puzzled look. “But, nevermind. I think I’m gonna look for it myself.”

He walked away dejected, ignoring Brosca’s look of concern. The nug was supposed to be a surprise. It was his reward for wrangling nugs back at Orzammar, and he never thought there would be a perfect gift like it. He worked so hard for it, only for it to just…vanish. He reached his tent, and sat, putting his head beween his hands.

Then an idea occurred to him. There is still hope and he knew who to ask.

* * *

At next meeting, Leliana sat listening at attention while stroking a nug. She was holding it in her lap, like it was her baby. It looks like a very peevish baby, though.

 Thorin looked at it then at Leliana. Topsiders. They’re the only ones crazy enough to make pets out of food.

“Alright everyone’s here, I think. Where’s Amadeus?” Thorin said, taking his eyes reluctantly off the nug.

“Somewhere, taking a piss. Maybe,” Tabris answered.

The nug was twittering madly. Leliana was soothing it, stroking its back. Ugh, now she’s petting it?

“I think he’ll come by later. So should we get started?” Tabris said, ignoring the high pitched squealing.

Sparing it from being dinner is one thing. Letting it interrupt him is another. “Leliana, put that thing out of here,” he barked at the bard. She bristled, glared at him, then scooped up her pet with a huff. They watch her walk away, hearing her soothe the nug by telling it to not mind “that cruel dwarf.”

Thorin stared at her hard as she walked away while Tabris did his best to turn his attention back to the meeting.

* * *

Alistair was somewhere in the woods minding his own business when he heard yelling. Intrigued, he finished and trudged around until he discovered Amadeus and Tabris arguing about something. They were arguing so loudly, they didn’t hear or notice a a big human approach them without trying to be stealthy.

“-please just bear with it for a few days, alright? I’ve already ordered a replacement and it’ll arrive soon and you’ll be free-”

“Bear with it? SHE PUT ME IN A CAGE!” Amadeus yelled.

“I’m sorry! I’m sorry! Calm down, alright? I know you don’t like cages and I’m sorry, I didn’t know she would put you in one, but I’ll tell her not to put you in it again, alright? Please don’t cry,” he added when the mage put his hand in his face. It seems he was about to, as the mage did not put his hand away and did not answer.

 “This is why I don’t trust people,” the mage said at last, dropping the hand. He's fortunately dry-eyed.  “You do something for them, without asking in return, and next thing you know, they turn you into a gift to give to their girl-” They finally noticed Alistair and fell silent.

Alistair looked from one to the other then leaned towards Amadeus. “Did he put a bow on you? Because that would be perfect.”    

The mage glared at him. “Ah. I suppose I should thank you. You made me remember what I should have done yesterday: strangling you in your sleep.”

“Aw, and I thought we were friends,” Alistair answered back but Amadeus had already moved on to Tabris.

“You. We’ll talk about this later,” he said to the elf, before storming off.

Alistair and Tabris looked at each other in silence. “I messed up,” Tabris said finally, like a child who broke his toy.

“Yes you did,” Alistair said, nodding like a parent of that child.

“I swear, I’m going to fix this. I’m going to fix this. Hey, Alistair, tell me you’re not going to tell her? TELL ME YOU’RE NOT GOING TO TELL HER!” Tabris shouted at his retreating back, as Alistair laughed all the way to his tent.

* * *

“Have you seen Schmooples?” Lelianna asked Tabris one day.

Tabris didn’t know how to answer her. “He..uh..he..was..eaten,” he finished lamely.

Leliana was distraught. “Eaten? By what?”

Unfortunately, that’s when Brosca decided to walk by. Tabris said “Brosca.”

“What?” Brosca asked, startled.

“Schmooples was eaten by Brosca?”  
“I ain’t eaten nothin.”  

Leliana didn’t believe him. “Don’t deny it. You’ve been drooling at my pet ever since we got him!”

 “Sod off, ye crazy woman! I told ye I ain’t eaten-” Tabris was silently pleading with him behind Lelianna. “Uh, amma dwarf. Itsa nug. Eaten at first sight.”

Leliana shot a look of disgust at him and then stormed off.  

When she was out of earshot, Brosca turned to Tabris. “Whaddya doin?”

Tabris explained who Schmooples was and why he won’t be appearing anytime soon in his nuggy little feet.

“Ye’re off yer soddin mind. What are ye doin, talkin him to turn inna nug with dwarves around? He coulda been eaten. I coulda eaten him. I woulda been sick.”

“You’re more worried about getting sick than him getting eaten,” Tabris observed.

Brosca ignored that. “Are ye out of yer damn mind? Whaddye think this is a good idea?”

“I know. I am not a smart man. But don’t tell Lelianna or she will pester Amadeus and Amadeus will be so annoyed, he’ll turn into a giant spider and eat me.”

“Aye, donna worry. Ain’t gonna tell her none. That’s watta brother’s for, ain’t it?” Then he added “Though if she slits me throat in me sleep, am hauntin ye.”

“Don’t worry about it. I’ll keep her busy.”

* * *

While they were marching, Wynne confronted Morrigan about her manners.

“You have a barbed tongue, Morrigan,” the elder mage said. “Tell me, why do you speak to others this way?”

 “I owe you no explanation. There is no writing on my forehead that says "Please, guide me!" the younger mage mocked.

“You are traveling with these people. It behooves you to be civil,” Wynne said gravely.

Morrigan snorted. “ You are too transparent, old woman. Do not bring up our companions, when all you wish is for me to be civil to you. I am not one of your Circle apprentices, to hang on your every word. I am not Alistair, who sees in you a surrogate mother.”

Wynne looked over her coolly. “No, it is obvious you are nothing like Alistair.”

Alistair looked around at the sound of his name, saw the two bickering like cats on a stable roof and elbowed Tabris. Tabris looked over, saw the same thing, and shook his head at Alistair. He then nodded at their leader.

“You do not approve of me, do you?”

“You have to ask? I didn't realize I was being subtle.”

“Ah, the old cat still has her claws, I see. And you also do not approve of my involvement with our stalwart Grey Warden.”

“You are dangerous, Morrigan. Dangerous, cunning and thoroughly deceitful. But you are beautiful, and he is young. It's a pity he doesn't know any better”

“Why, Wynne, I do believe that is the first time you have ever offered a compliment. Thank you.”

“Only you would take that as a compliment,” Wynne answered drily.

“Listen, old woman. what happens between myself and him is not your concern. You can approve or not approve as you wish, but this is one thing you cannot influence and mould to your liking.”

“So you say. I do hope that one day soon you will discover that neither is he.”

“ You mistake my intent, old cat. And you are a fool.”

“Am I? Well, let's hope so.”

Thorin came by to defuse their situation. “Fighting over me? I’m flattered.”

They both smiled at him in amusement.  “I am only asking her intentions regarding you," Wynne explained. "You are a Grey Warden. You have responsibilities. You cannot afford being distracted with matters that does not have your interests at heart.”

‘Thank you for your concern, Wynne. I think I can handle my own matters by myself,” he replied, then gave a look which said “Now you’ve made your point, get going.”

Wynne understood it, and with a final look of warning at Morrigan, walked away.

“My, my. How very unexpected for you to defend me against those who have your “bests interest at heart,” Morrigan said, after Wynne was out of earshot.  “Are you going soft on me?”

First the one now the other. “No, of course not. I would always be hard on you,” he answered with a wry smile.

She answered it with a smile of her own, letting him know that she understood.

* * *

Amadeus was even more grumpier than usual, such as the others would rather bleed than let him heal them. Zevran, unfortunately, had not known what passed earlier and so unlucky to be wounded and asked for the mage’s assistance. Though Amadeus’ personality is prickly, he never let that into his healing; his magic is always gentle and soothing. Except today, where he healed wounds like he was welding flesh.

Zevran winced as the healer closed his wounds with a snap. “You know my friend, you have an excellent bedside manner,”he said.

 “Why, thank you. Believe me to be feeling warm and fuzzy all over,” Amadeus drawled, still scowling.

“You’re a healer, no? Do your patients ever complain?”

“They don’t.”

“And why not?”

“Because they," he waved his staff for the finish, "stay dead.”

* * *

When Thorin went to speak with Morrigan, he found her agitated. She still kept that cool, aloof air but he could see she was close to panicking.

“Morrigan, what’s wrong?” he asked.

She shook her head and said “I wish that you move closer to me and lower your voice.”

He looked around to their companions then back to her. “Morrigan, we’re all friends here. They can be trusted with whatever you wish to tell.” She only replied with an irritated flick of her hand. He sighed, then did as she asked.

“I have been studying my mother’s grimoire,” she began. “expecting to find her collection of spells, a map of power she commands. But instead I found…this”

“Calm down. You’re safe here, because you look a little disturbed.”

“Disturbed?” She let out a little nervous laugh. “Yes, disturbed perhaps is the right word. One thing in particular in her writing disturbs me. Here in great detail. Flemeth explains the means by which she survived for centuries.”

“I would have thought she has a spell of immortality for that.” He is not a believer for these topsider legends, but the way mages go, they always have a spell for everything.

“If only ‘twere so,” she replied. “Flemeth has raised many daughters over her long lifetime. There were stories of many Witches of the Wild throught Chasind legend, yet I have never seen one and always wondered why not. And now I know. They are all Flemeth. When her body becomes old and wizened, she raises a daughter. And when the time is right, she takes her daughter’s body for her own.”

 He looked at her horrified face and said “And I assume you don’t want her to do it to you?”

She nodded. “There is only one response to this: Flemeth needs to die. I will not sit about like an empty sack waiting to be filled. Flemeth must be slain. And I need your help to do it.”

“Can we try talking to her about first? Tell her that you don’t want this done to you?”

“No! Tis cannot be done,” she answered, her voice rising in annoyance. “She is cunning and treacherous. She will promise you everything that you ask of her but as soon as you turn away, she will betray you. She will strike when you thought you were safe. There is only one way to stop her and it is to slay her.” They were silent after her outburst, letting her compose herself. “So, will you help me or not? Shall I be on my knees begging for your help?” she asked sarcastically.

“What happens if I kill her? Will you be finally safe from her?”

“No. I doubt she be truly be dead then, but it will take her years to find a new host and recover her power. The thing I must have is her true grimoire. With it I can defend against her power in the future. Everything else in her hut is yours.”

His face darkened. “You are asking a great thing from me. You are asking me to kill the woman who saved our lives back back at Ostagar and who we owe a debt. Who is also said to be a powerful witch capable of returning from death and quite surely, capable of carrying a grudge. Why should I risk the enmity of an immortal being, our lives and our chances of victory against the Blight, for you?”

“I…I have nothing to offer but little. But all the same, I ask for your help,” she answered, her voice softer now that he looks like he might refuse. He noted she didn’t offer to share the contents of her mother’s grimoire, the way to defend against Flemeth.

He looked away from her then at the flames. “Very well,” he said after a while. She perked up, expecting him to refuse. “But after we go to Haven. I want the treaties secured before we go to face her.”

“I am grateful. The sooner this is done, the sooner it will set my mind at ease. What needs to be done is for you to go back to Flemeth’s hut back in the Wilds.”

“You’re not coming with?”

She shook her head. “If I am present when she is slain, I cannot be certain she will not be able to posses my body right then. So I must remain at camp. Confront her and slay her quickly. Then take her grimoire and return to me.”

 Easier said than done.


	95. Chapter 95

They finally arrived at a quiet little town called Haven, thanks to having Elissa back. Her noble education included reading maps, much to their joy.

Haven was a bit suspicious, since it doesn’t appear on any official maps except what they got from the fake Weylon, and coming from the lunatic pretender, it smells like trouble. Sten and Morrigan obstinately refused to come, having no interest to visit yet another dumpty-looking town and its equally dumpty-looking inhabitants with their trifling problems. Oghren originally was of the party, and yet when they started climbing towards the village, he looked at the stairs, going up and up, without end, and seemingly, towards the sky. When he realized that, he paled under his red bushy beard and begged Thorin to spare him the trek. Thorin allowed him, taking pity on his fellow dwarf. Amadeus wanted to stay too, saying he has no interest to see the some dead woman’s ashes, but Thorin glared at him and said that they need all mages they could get.

And so, with a large party than usual, they arrived.

They were met by a guard, who saw they were not locals and became hostile. He demanded the purpose of their visit.  Elissa sweetly said they just want to visit, for Brother Genetivi was their friend and this was the last address they had of him. The guard brusquely said that he knows no one by that name but Father Eirik might know. Unfortunately, he was away ministering to the villagers. Then he said there is a shop just up there and that they leave immediately after they were done.

As the guard walked away, they started discussing his behavior. “That’s odd,”  Tabris commented at the guard’s manner

“Ah. That’s just how quiet, insular communities is,” Zevran said, grinning, arms behind his head. “There’s always something nasty going on behind closed doors.”

“You always think something nasty going on behind closed doors,” Wyne said drily.

He winked at her. “That’s because there often is. I hope it involves chains. I hope they ask me to join in.”

“And I hope they keep you there,” Amadeus said, morose.

“And I suggest you join me. It might cheer you up so you don’t look so sad like you do right now, yes?”

“Zevran, stop teasing him.”

“As you say, my dear Wynne,” Zevran said, sadly, and sighed. “But may I cry my disappointment on your bosom?”

"Egad!" the elder mage answered.  

“That’s the only help we can get, I think.” Thorin said, turning to them. “We split up. We get too much attention moving in a big pack. Some of us go to this shop, see what we can find. The rest look around where the Brother is.  Try to be discreet.”

* * *

“Who are you? You’re not from Haven.” The shopkeeper said as Thorin, Alistair,  Elissa and Neria entered.

“Yes, We’re not. We’re just passing by.” Thorin said as he went near the counter. He figured he can’t reach it so he stopped where the shopkeeper can see him. “The guard said you sell some supplies here?”

As the shopkeeper and the dwarf talked, Neria’s eye was caught by something shiny on a crack from the door at the left. She looked furtively at her companions, and seeing they’re preoccupied with the seller, she tiptoed to the door, the counter blocking her from view of the shopkeeper. She reached the door and slowly pushed it open.

Their conversation was interrupted by her yell. They turned around and saw her, standing before an open door, where further in a body was laid, the shield catching the light.    

“What are you doing? That’s private!” the seller yelled as Alistair approached the body.

“I know that coat of arms. That’s one of Arl Eamon’s knights,” Alistair said, looking at the shield.

Thorin turned to the seller. “What are you hiding?” he demanded.

“That’s none of your concern.”

“Oh it is. It’s not everyday you see dead bodies in the cupboard,” Alistair replied, coming behind Thorin.

The shopkeeper’s eyes widened. Then he drew a knife. They drew their weapons and before they could talk him into disarming, he yelled with a loud, blood-curling cry. He raised his knife and…slit his throat.

They stared at the body, the blood pooling fast on the floor.

“Well, shit,” the dwarf summarized.

* * *

Meanwhile, Tabris, Amadeus, Lelianna were walking to one of the houses.

“How are we supposed to know anything? Should we knock and ask if they saw the Brother?” Tabris asked.

“Pretend you’re sick and need water,” the mage answered.

“What?”

Amadeus sighed. “I’ve got to do everything, then?” He looked at Tabris, then sent a mental blast, making him reel and fall to the ground. Lelianna saw that and became enraged.

“What are you doing?” she demanded.

Amadeus grabbed the unconscious elf by the arms. “Investigating. Help me lift him up.” Lelianna was too shocked to answer, but she glared at the mage and held the elf between them.

Amadeus knocked at a door and it was opened by a grouchy housewife. “Please help us. He’s fainted and in need of water,” he pleaded.

The woman was frowning, but seeing the elf’s lolling head, she let them in and directed them to a dirty couch. Amadeus thanked him and asked if they could get a glass of water as Leliana fanned Tabris with her hand. As the owner went to the kitchen, Amadeus whispered to her “Distract her. Make a scene.” When she returned, Leliana told a great story about who they are, and what they have been up to and what wonderful place Haven is, encouraged by grunts and snorts from the woman. She did not notice Amadeus slip out the back, so captivated was she of Leliana’s tale.

Finally, Tabris came round. “What?” he said, massaging his head and occasionally shaking it to get rid of its bewilderment.

“Oh, Thank the Maker,” Leliana breathed. She noticed Amadeus appear behind the woman.

They lifted Tabris off his feet and thanked the woman for her help. Amadeus pressed a few coppers into her hand. The woman refused, and brusquely told them to get going if their friend was now feeling better. They thanked her again.

When they were outside, Tabris remembered what happened. “You bastard,” he said, glaring at the mage

“It had to be done.”

“You can’t just barge into people’s houses!”

“Says the burglar.”

Tabris narrowed his eyes at him. “The ex-burglar, thank you very much.”

“I saw a dead body on a house at Denerim manned by someone from here. I had to check.”

Tabris rubbed his eyes. “Why can’t you just be like a normal person and ask them if they saw anything suspicious?”

He pointed at the people around, who shot them hostile glances. “You really think they would invite us in to tea and a chat?”

“Stop pointing! That’s rude.”

“What have you found?” Lelianna asked Amadeus, to stop them from squabbling further.

“An altar, about chest high when kneeling, perfect for resting necks, with a hollow at the center and,” he withdrew his hand from his pockets, “blood.”

They heard a scream.

* * *

The villagers burst into the shop and saw the body of the shopkeeper.

Thorin said in a placating voice “We did not kill him. He killed himself,” but the villagers did not believe him and started attacking. They died, their faces twisted with hate and something else.

“Why would they do that?” Alistair asked as the last of them went silent.

“Don’t think too much about it. They were crazy and obviously guilty.” Thorin said as he nodded at the dead knight. “We need to get out of here. Gather the others.”

They went outside and they saw Tabris and the two running towards them. At their heels were an angry mob.

“Kill them!” Shouted one peasant, holding aloft a pitchfork.

“What did you do?” Thorin asked them.

“What did __you__  do? We were doing fine, when we heard a scream from here and suddenly everyone started attacking us,” Amadeus said.

“Are you sure it’s not because an asshole like you is running around?” Tabris said.

Thorin intervened before Amadeus could retort. “Long story. But there’s a dead knight in there and the owner killed himself.”

“Well, we found no dead knight but there’s an altar for human sacrifices at one of the houses.”

“You sure?”

“Yes. There’s plenty of human blood on it.”

“How do you know it’s human?”

“Because it’s coming from a bloody eye.”

“Ew! I think I feel lunch creeping back up,” Alistair said, looking green. Brosca’s group was running to them and they were also being chased.

“This is crazy! We gotta kid keepin human bones lika toys!” Brosca said as they arrived.

The mob surrounded them, raising pitchforks and scythes. Thorin yelled at them to stand down or die, but they were too crazed to hear anything he said. A yell went from them and they attacked. The Wardens had no choice but to kill them, their weapons drawing spouts of blood as it swept through unprotected bodies.

“Where are the other villagers?” Thorin said, as he sheathed his axe.

“They are at the chapel up there, I think,” Alistair pointed at the hill.

“Let’s go. I think we know now what to expect.”

As they went up the hill, Tabris commented. “This is one messed-up town.”

* * *

“...we are blessed beyond measure, we are chosen by the Holy and beloved to be her guardians..”

Thorin opened the door and stepped inside the chapel. A man ministering to a congregation gathered near him. He let him intone as the others spread out, blocking the exit.

The man finished his sermon and spoke to them. “Ah, welcome. I heard we have visitors wandering around the village. I’ve trust you’ve enjoyed your stay at Haven so far,” he said, very affable.

“Much better than the knights from Redcliffe,” Thorin answered.

The priest’s face twisted. “What sort of welcome do you expect when you break into one of our homes and kill us? This is why we do not like visitors. They are not like us. They will do harm if we let them.”

 “Where is Brother Genetivi?” Thorin demanded.

“We don’t owe you any explanations for our actions. We have a sacred duty, failure to protect her would be a greater sin.” He raised his hands up the ceiling. “All will be forgiven. Brothers,” he called to the congregation. “You know what must be done.”

They also knew what must be done. They killed them all.

They considered reviving the father to ask him where the scholar is but Zevran poked around and said there’s a hidden room beyond the wall, if they could open it. Pressing a brick opened it and they found their quarry.

The scholar was at the center of a small library, his legs broken. Wynne knelt and looked at it. She said she can set it and do something to ease the pain, but he needs to rest to be healed. Hearing this, the scholar lamented that the Urn was just up the mountain. They need a key, a medallion that the father wears.

They looked at Neria.

“No.” She said, clutching her pockets. “I found it. It’s mine.”

“C’mon spit it out.”

She refused.

“I bet there’s a lot of treasure up there. But we canna get in without it,” Brosca teased.

She thought about it, cheered up, and handed the trinket over.

The scholar said it was the key and begged them to take them to the mountainside. Elissa asked him if he can make it and the scholar insisted that he can.

“We could rig a litter.” Thorin said.

“Or we could not, because we have a four-legged creature who can carry him,” said Tabris.

They looked at Amadeus.

“Oh no, you don’t.”

* * *

Oh yes, they did.

They helped the scholar down the bear’s back, which turned back to Amadeus. He was extremely ruffled by the ride and glared at the scholar. “Don’t mention anything of this,”he threatened the old man.

 The scholar promised, gulping very rapidly. They assisted him to the door, where he put in the key and it opened to a great hall, filled with ice and snow. Columns rose to the ceiling, arching into a dome. Passages on their left and right and stairs led to a banister, the walls covered in carvings.

“What would I give to see the hall in its splendor,” said the scholar, looking around, starstruck. “Still, sweep away the ice and snow and beauty remains.”

Thorin cleared his throat. “We can’t afford to stay here.”

The scholar broke from his reverie and said that he would stay to study the statues and carvings.

They did not know where to go so they split up. In both passages, they encountered the same crazy villagers and killed them. Then they reached a door, locked, but not with a mechanism they can pick. Amadeus took some time figuring out the puzzle, and when he did, demons made of ash rose up and attacked them.

“What were those?” Thorin asked as the last of them floated away.

“Ash wraiths. Demons possessing ashes,” Amadeus answered.

 “Is there anything demons don’t possess?” Thorin muttered.

* * *

At the caverns, it wasn’t long before Mahariel came running towards them, not caring about the little slapping sounds her feet were making. That’s odd.

“Dragons!”she hissed as she came near.

“Dragons? Plural? And they’d spotted you? I thought you said no one can see or hear you coming?” Alistair asked, drawing his weapon.

“They can __smell,__ ” as she notched an arrow and fired. It hit the snout of the first beast that appeared around the corner, where it bellowed.

“Oh great. Fire balms, everyone.”

Dragonlings and drakes attacked them, setting fire to them and clawing. Tabris begged if the healers can regrow hair, for his eyebrows were all singed off.

“Ye be damn happy it’s jest yer eyebrows” Brosca said, looking sadly at his now uneven beard, black at the corners.   

They met another set of cultists which bore the brunt of their hurt pride.

Then they found a dragon hatchery. Which meant there was a high dragon somewhere. And a lot of cultists.

“The Wardens sends their-Arggh!” Tabris screamed as an arrow zipped his cheek. He turned around and threw his dagger to the archer, the knife embedding between his brows. “I was trying to say a bad-ass line here!” he scolded the corpse.

“Then don’t. Or we’ll be quoting your line over your dead body,” Amadeus said, sending rejuvenation spells to everyone.

“You’re not gonna let me stay dead, aren’t you? Aren’t you?” he repeated, but the mage did not answer him.

Brosca was revived after he was shot with a particularly nasty spell. When he came to, he shook his head and glared at the healer. “Ain’t ye supposed to do somethin bout that?”

Amadeus shrugged. “I’ve tried everything. Nothing worked. It’d just be easier to let you die and revive you later.” Brosca muttered under his breath and drank the poultice. He immediately made a disgusted sound. “Bah! This taste worse than nugshit.”

“Excuse me?” the mage said, piqued, that his potion making skill was being insulted.

“Whaddye put in here? Alistair’s sock?”

“Hey! Leave my sock out of this. My sock is innocent.”

“You’re supposed to rub it on wounds, not drink it,” Amadeus explained.

“Waste of bloody time.” Brosca drank the rest of it, which resulted to more coughing and swearing. “Think them darkspawn gonna wait fer ye like “ Oi, Hurlock! Can ye wait for a bit? Amma just rub some salve fer me wound. And he gonna say Oh sure, amma sit here and wait til yer all good then I poke ye again with me sword.”

“I…you have a point. The recipe was never made with battle conditions in mind,” the healer said, and started monologing. “It’s possible to make it in a potion..but it would be a waste to throw away the poultices. I suppose for the taste I could add…berries.”

Brosca heard that and taunted him. “Berries? That’s what yer gonna do, add some soddin berries?”

“Or you could stop acting like a big baby and drink your medicine.”

Alistair intervened. “Now, Amadeus, that’s not a something a healer should say, even if he was acting like a big baby,” he said.

“Who ye calling a big baby?”

“Ignore him, Amadeus. Dwarves don’t use poultices. There isn’t any elf-root underground,” Thorin said.

The mage looked at him, puzzled. “Then how do you deal with wounds?

“Bandages.”

“Bandages? That’s it? What happens if the bleeding doesn’t stop?”

“Then we die. But we die like real dwarves,” Thorin answered.


	96. Chapter 96

AN: I forgot to include some scenes in the earlier chapters. Please see chapter 46 for continuity's sake.

* * *

“You!”

Thorin held a hand up as they saw a heavily bearded man leading another set of cultists.

“You have defiled out temple, slaughtered our young," the man accused them. "Speak now or we will see you pay."

“We don’t kill children,” Thorin shouted back.

“You lie! You killed Her holy children, the blood of the risen Andraste.”

Tabris straightened, puzzled. “Um, Andraste’s children was long dead. And what risen Andraste was he talking about?” he asked the others

“Andraste is dead but she has ascended to the Maker’s side.” Lelianna said, shaking her head. “She could not be risen, as he says.”

“She has returned!” the madman insisted. “In a form more resplendent than ever before”.

“Well, that’s news,” Tabris commented.

“She waits above her temple, tied still to her mortal remains, unable to fully realize her glory. But we are unable to reach them.”

“How so?” Thorin asked him.

The man explained about the Guardian of the temple, who had not let them pass. Thorin replied that they were going the same way.  

“You would be Andraste’s Champion?” the man asked, eyes wide.  Then he introduced himself as Father Kolgrim and explained he will let them pass only if they agree to pour some blood on the ashes, to free Andraste and be reborn in a body of a dragon. If they did, he would teach them a secret form of fighting that uses pain to increase power.

Unfortunately, his offer is a pain that only served to9 increase outrage. “We can’t let him do that!” Tabris protested. “The ashes are a holy relic. It’s a sacrilege to do that.”

“What he is offering is much more useful. We are fools not to take his offer,” Amadeus said.

Tabris glared at him. “I know you hate the Chantry but this is going too far.”

“I am simply saying practical advice. A new form of fighting technique can help us stop the Blight than a dead woman’s ashes.”

“Oh you’ve really done it.”

An arrow sprouted from the father’s chest, cutting short the bickering. They turned and followed its source, where Leliana had her bow drawn and the next arrow nocked.

Father Kolgrim looked in shock at the arrow in his chest, then at them. The shock lasted only for a moment, and his face twisted in anger as he gave an order to his cult. “Destroy them! In Andraste’s name, kill them all.”

* * *

Near the top of the mountain, before the little temple, lay a high dragon basking in the sun. It was drowsy from the warm afternoon, waiting for its noon day meal, when it suddenly raised its head and sniffed the air. its followed followed the scent down below, where it saw a group of two-legs emerge from the cavern and walk to the temple. It raised itself on its haunches, expectant, that those were the ones bringing food to it. It left them alive, learning  long ago that the two legs are sure to feed it and take care of its eggs and drakes for it. But something was strange; it sniffed again and froze. These does not smell like the two-legs it was used to, and looking closer, they bore no tribute. So, if they have no tribute, then they must be the tribute.

They emerged to the top of the mountain and walked to a temple just beyond, when something massive swooped from above.

“Dragon!” Thorin yelled as he looked around for cover. He saw ruins to the right and pointed at it. They ran as the high dragon made a pass again, this time blasting fire at their heels. They hid at the stone ruins as they watched out for it.

“How do we kill that thing?” Tabris asked.

Amadeus peered around a broken pillar. “I might have something for that.”

“You know a spell that can kill dragons?”

“Of course not. Don’t be ridiculous. I meant something that’ll keep it from flying.”

"A spell of course." Amadeus glanced at Wynne, Neria and Morrigan. "On the count of three, we'll fire a cold spell at its wings. If we hit it hard enough, perhaps it will stop flying."

Tbaris looked skeptical at the dragon, a black dot zipping across the sky. "Are you sure it's gonna work?"

 Amadeus finished counting and they stepped out from their cover. They simultaneously blasted a spell at the dragon. The dragon swerved to avoid meeting it.

"Quite sure. Because spells....don't miss."

The bolts swerved to meet the dragon's wing.  it hit the thin skin over its muscles, freezing it as well as the surrounding membranes. The dragon shrieked, unable to keep flying and started plummeting towards them. It hit the ground hard. The dragon roared and started crawling to them, its wing pinned uselessly behind it. The mages fired spell after spell at it, some of them glancing off its tough hide.

When it was near enough, Thorin shouted "Now!"  and the melee fighters jumped into position. They dove and rolled and ran under it, driving their weapons deep on any limb they could find as its head followed them and its jaw snapped at their heels. They couldn’t get at the neck, but they started hacking at the legs, aiming for the tendons. The dragon shrieked in pain and grabbed the first thing it saw, which was Brosca.

“Brosca!” Tabris shouted at him. The dragon shook the dwarf like a chew toy in its rage. The others yelled and hacked at it to release it, but the creature was mad with pain it continued tearing the dwarf with its jaws. Wynne casted a spell at the dwarf, then Alistair hit it hard enough that it shrieked, releasing Brosca. Wyne set to work healing him.

The dragon turned to Alistair. It swept its tail around, throwing Elissa and Tabris to the ground, while Thorin bore the blow with his shield. It was about to bite Alistair, when Amadeus cast a barrier on him. The dragon was enraged, clawing at him, but Alistair was frozen, unhurt. Neria and Morrigan kept freezing it, but it breathed flames around itself, setting beards and hair on fire. Mahariel and Lelianna kept firing, poking holes at its wings and head, making it madder and madder in order to break off its pursuit of their companions.

It gave up trying to chew the templar when it flew up, only to crash back down with its useless wings. However, its fall sent a wind that buffeted them, sending everyone sprawling except Thorin and Brosca, who are stout and closer to the ground. Alistair was trying to escape from its legs when the dragon saw him and tried to chew him again. A barrier was placed in time, and it shrieked and clawed at it, batting its wings, buffeting them all around. Alistair was frozen mid roll, with a comically pained expression.

It swept its tail around again and everyone dove out the way. Feeling pain at its hindleg, it kicked. Thorin caught it with his shield but he still flew several meters. He screamed as his back broke, only to feel healing energy knit it back. It swept its claw around, catching Brosca and Elissa, leaving gashes as it tore through their armor.

Alistair broke free of the barrier. “STOP DOING THAT! IT’S NOT FUNNY!” he yelled to the mage. His yelling drew the dragon on him and he grunted under his shield as its claw crashed on him.

The left foreleg was weakening, and with one swift cut from Tabris, its shoulder sagged and the dragon’s neck tipped lower. Realizing its true danger, the dragon abandoned any sort of tactic, kicking at them with all its limbs at its panic. Bodies flew, got healed, picked themselves up, and start slashing again, while the dragon blew fire to keep them away.

Brosca climbed up the lower shoulder, picked his way to its neck until he reached the head, then drove his greatsword down. It roared, shaking its head frantically, trying to dislodge the sword from its brain and the dwarf from its head. Brosca hang on for life, lock his legs tightly around its head and drove the sword deeper, until with a final shriek, the head fell and lay still.

Everyone fell quiet as they caught their breath. Then Tabris started clapping and soon everyone were laughing, grateful to be alive, for another day.

* * *

They did not find what they sought. at least not yet. What they did find was both pleasant and unpleasant.A figure was standing before the great doors. They shuffled closer, spreading to surround it, wary, and they saw that it was man. It was hard to see him in that armor that blended in with the doors. They came near, and found that he was not a cultist.

He was a…ghost.

“EEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!!!!”

“Tabris, come back,” Leliana called out as Tabris pounded at the doors yelling “Let me out! LET ME OUT!”

Thorin retrieved the elf and roundly scolded him, saying that even if he was terrified, he should not have broke ranks.

“And why,” he said, turning to Brosca, “are you screaming with him?”

Brosca closed his mouth. “Oh, ye mean ye donna do that to scare em off?”

Thorin stared him longer then turned to walk towards the ghost without answering him. “What had I done to deserve this?” they later heard him mutter.

 They shuffled closer to the man.

“I bid you welcome, pilgrims,” he said, grim and solemn. 

Thorin lowered his weapon but did not sheathe it. “Who are you?”

“I am the Guardian, protector of the Sacred Ashes,” he answered. “I have waited years for this.” He explained that its duty was to protect the Ashes for the faithful to come, until he Imperium is defeated. He will only allow them to take the ashes if they are proven worthy by the Gauntlet.  

“Before you go, there is something I might ask. I see that the path that led you here was not easy. There is suffering in your past-your suffering as well as others. Bhelen’s machinations have led to Trian’s death and exile. You allowed this to happen. Do you think you failed Trian?”  

“I allowed nothing. I did not know what Bhelen was planning. If I did, I would have stopped him.”

“Then you do not dwell on someone else’s mistakes-neither yours nor someone else’s.”

The Guardian turned to Wyne, asking her if she believed the words she gives to younger mages or just spoke platitudes as a tool of the Circle and the Chantry.

 “Yes, I doubt. Only the fool is completely certain of himself,” the elder mage admitted. 

It was Zevran’s turn. He was surprised The Guardian knew his secret. He asked him if he ever regretted killing-Zevran cut him short. “Yes. The answer’s yes if you need to know,” he said, refusing to elaborate, ignoring the puzzled looks from his companions. He was rarely irritable, no matter where they have ended up, and he did so now without any of his usual witticisms.

The Guardian then asked Elissa if she failed her parents by abandoning them to Howe. She cried, but she said no, she knew the duty of a Cousland.

He asked Alistair if he should have died instead of Duncan. Alistair's lower lip trembled, as he replied that it would have made it better. Mahariel stepped his side, locked her fingers with his and squeezed. He felt it and looked down to smile at her.

The guardian turned to the Dalish Elf if she failed Tamlen. She replied that yes, Tamlen deserved a friend who would pull him out of the mirror and away from danger, even if it was against his desires.

 He asked Brosca if he failed his family by being a Grey Warden. He replied that no, leaving was the best thing he has ever done for them.

He asked Lelianna if she thought she was Andraste’s equal, that afraid she will be forgotten, she said her visions only for attention. She was outraged by his question, and declared hotly that she knows what she believes.

He turned to Tabris and asked if he failed Shianni. He hung his head and answered that yes, he should have got at the estate sooner.

He asked Neria if she failed Jowan. She shook her head, and said it wasn’t her fault he was caught.

Then he turned to Amadeus. He asked him if he failed Lilly when she was sent to Aonar. Amadeus didn’t know what The Guardian will do so he thought it best to answer truthfully.

“I had counted on her being punished, either a stint in the prisons at best, or expulsion from the Chantry at worst. I cannot be blamed for her being sent to Aonar. That is on Gregoire.”

The Guardian only nodded at his non-answer. He ignored the glare of Wynne’s eyes at his back as the Guardian let them through.

“The way is open. Good luck, and may you find what you seek,” he said. Little did they know it was a warning.

* * *

Thorin came face to face with Trian. He would’ve embraced him but stopped when he saw that the room showed through him. Trian huffed about his fate but said that, whatever happened, he was proud of him. Even though they had hurt each other, they are still brothers. Thorin wondered if this was applicable to Bhelen. “Remember me” Trian said as he gave him an amulet and faded away.

Elissa saw her father, who said that he was gone, and to acknowledge the pain and guilt and let go. Elissa cried and protested that he is not gone, while her father sadly looked at her. He handed her an amulet and disappeared.

Amadeus watched as the others reunited with people from their past, alive or dead. He watched as Neria cried at Jowan, Alistair talked with Duncan and Mahariel with an elf. His heart hammering, he wondered who will appear before him, his parents, or....himself. Surely, in his unquenchable need to have everything be about himself, he would not resist in returning only to taunt him with his loss?

Let him come; let him haunt him once more; only, do not leave him here, alone; to wander in this prison they call a life; always with longing that will never be satisfied.  

It was Lilly.

“Typical,” he said, his disappointment to acute to be expressed with more than a word.

“Hello, Amadeus,” she greeted. There was neither anger or joy in her face upon seeing him.  Only resignation.

Amadeus crossed his arms. “Why are you here? Did you come here to make me regret what I’ve done? Because if it is, you’ve come for nothing. ”

“No. I only came here to say that I’m sorry.”

“Get on with it, whatever you are. I know this is just some trick. The Lilly I know is in Aonar.”

“I know. But I have to come here before it’s too late.” She sighed. “I’m sorry, for not knowing how much you hated being in the tower. I was too blind to see how you hated it there and how you suffered. If I was the friend I thought I was, I would have done differently.”

“That’s over and done. Is that all?”

“I also wish you well and hope that you find peace.”

“There is never going to be peace for me after what they have done.”

She bowed her head, a failed hope, then raised herself up again. "Before I go, I want to know one thing. Did you regret letting me be sent to Aeonar?”

Amadeus knew he cannot get what he want with a divided mind. And so he must kill whatever good, however little, that remained. “I regret nothing.” 

“I’m sorry for you.”

“I’m not.”

She smiled, as if accepting it, then with a look that said she still cared, she was gone.  

* * *

Amadeus doesn’t like being forced to confess, especially when it’s through something that he considers a farce. And so he showed his displeasure to someone who was only too happy about all this.

“What?” Tabris asked. “Why are you glaring at me?”

“You’re enjoying this are you?”

“What? I can’t be happy? How about you? Can you not be grumpy all the time?”

“I can’t, because it seems I will always be surrounded by Chantry idiots.”

“Is it killing you, if I’m an Andrastrian? I’m not asking you to join in the Chant. I’m not asking you to believe in Andraste as I do, am I?”

“No.”

“Then why are you always ragging me about it?”

“I just find you annoying.”

Tabris gaped confusedly at him. But before he could retort, Thorin said, “You can settle your grudges, just right ahead.” He pointed at the next room.

Shadowy figures of themselves appeared, and they looked angry.

Everyone took positions as their shadows started to attack. Their copies have their abilities, but it seems they do not have the coordination and trust that can only be built by risking your life alongside others.

Amadeus was busy giving them boosts to their speed and strength when the glyph at his back activated. “I expected as much, “ he says, as he turned around and found the shadowy Tabris looking at him, daggers drawn to strike. He put up a shield, and then touched it with his staff, where it swelled and exploded across the room with a bang.

“Ewww!” Neria brushing off shadow guts that splashed across her chest and face. “Can you not do that?”

 Tabris paled when he saw what he did to his copy and very carefully stepped away from him. It seems Amadeus has not really forgiven him yet for the nug incident. Or at least, that’s what he told himself.

After that they played a game called So You Think You Know Andraste? They had to guess riddles given by people in the prophet’s life.  Some fancy smokeshow if they are right, a shrieking ash wraith if they were wrong. They decided not to play that again.

 Needless to say, some people are over the moon.

 

Then it was puzzles, which involved an ephemeral stone pathway, over a pit that solidifies if a proper sequence was done. If done wrong, the unlucky person falls straight to the pit. Well, at least if they did so, the others don’t have to dig.

“Canna we just go hittin somethin?” Brosca whined.

* * *

The Urn was found in the other side of the room, the plain white jug visible even in the dim light. Unfortunately, it was behind a wall of flames.

Before them stood an altar. “What’s this?” Thorin asked as he went near the stele. There was a writing on it and he started reading. “Cast of the trappings of worldly life and cloak yourself in the goodness of spirit. King and slave, lord and beggar, be born anew in the Maker’s sight.”

Amadeus crossed his arms and glowered. It seems that the Gauntlet was intent on stripping him, both in mind and body.

“What does that mean?” Thorin asked, puzzled.

Amadeus glared at Tabris. “You and your rituals.” Then he turned back to the altar. “It simply means we remove all our armor. Clothing included.”

“What? We all go naked?” Brosca asked.

“And what about cloaking yourself in the goodness of spirit? Be born anew in Maker’s sight?” Thorin asked again.

“Nothing. Just another Chantry goobledegook.”

“It means having faith” Tabris said, getting angry.

“Oh yes, I have faith that stupidity is never going to be extinct from this world,” Amadeus shot back. “What guarantee do we have that that ghost won’t come back and kill us without our weapons?”

“Well, I’m pretty sure the Guardian will come back and kill us if we don’t do as the altar says!”

“Alright! Stop it! Both of you had been at each other long enough." He pointed at the stele with his ax. "If this is what’s needed to be done, then we do it.”

“And if you were wrong? If there are enemies waiting for us to be defenseless?” Amadeus asked him.

“We’ll think of something.”

“Very comforting.”

Thorin commenced removing the straps of his armor. Mahariel saw that and started removing her own.

“Woah!” Alistair stopped her hand from unbuckling the strap while he blocked her from their view.  “Are you sure about this? There are others watching, you know.”

She looked at him, eyes as placid as a lake. “I am not ashamed of my own body.”

“Hear, Hear!” Zevran called out to them.

“Oh, okay. If you insist. But I’m going to stand here with you, alright?”

She smiled. “Then you should not be idling,” she said, nodding at his buckles.

“You know, I would love doing this a lot if we are just not being watched by other people right now.” Alistair said, as he removed the first one.

“If you are concerned for her, why don’t you turn around and give us a better show?” Zevran called out to him.

The hall rang out with giggles and laughter as Alistair’s ears went red.

Thorin had finished with his armor and removed his undergarments in one swift motion.

“Ah. Now we know what Morrigan saw in you,” Zevran commented.

The dwarf sighed amidst their giggles before turning his head at the elf. “Aren’t you supposed to be doing something?”

Zevran straightened from his relaxed pose. “Oh. I had thought you wanted me to check if you were...er, well equipped and healthy for our task,” he said. Thorin glared at him so he started unstrapping his own armor.  Seeing the elf's compliance, the dwarf turned to face the wall of flames. He tested it by putting his finger over the fire. “Not even a tickle,” he said, drawing his fingers back unsinged, and walked through the fire. He reached the steps to the Urn waited for the others.

 It was the signal to start stripping. The others followed enough, though not without giggling and chuckling. Amadeus, however, kept glowering and held on to his robes like a man drowning. “Are we really doing this?”

Tabris was now removing his shirt. “What? It’s just removing your clothes. It’s not like we’re doing something horrible here.”

“Aye, what’s yer problem?” Brosca asked as he dropped his greaves. He doesn’t have to worry being ooggled, because his whole body is covered with bristled, dark  hairs from arms to chest to his legs.   

“Following blindly what a piece of writing tells you. How do we know-”

“That’s an order!”

Amadeus glared at the dwarf at the other side of the room, but he started undoing the hooks of his robes.

“It’s not like anyone here would want to see you naked,” Neria said to him as she removed her robes.

“You never know. Maybe they will after they look at you and find” -he made a full sweep of her small and childish body -“nothing.”

Brosca had to stop undressing himself as he restrained Neria. “Let me at him, that sodding piece of nugshit! I’ll give him something!” she screamed. Amadues paid her no mind and removed his robes, leaving only his underpants and boots.

“Hmm, I do not see why you need to hide yourself,” Zevran said to him, looking up and down his body very appreciatively. They may be forced to run from Loghain, but never will it be said they do not end up looking good while at it.

Amadeus flushed, then looked away. “Shouldn’t you be admiring Elissa?” he asked, calmly, as he folded his robes in neat lines.

Elissa pouted at the mage. “And you were doing so well in distracting him,” she said, her hands untying her skirt.

“Ah, forgive me, my dear! I have momentarily been distracted.”

She smiled and handed him her skirt. “ I think I can give you a better view.”

“Oh?”

 “Help me with my clothes and find out for yourself.”  She turned her back to him and held out her hands, her chin up. He smiled and started undoing the laces at her back.

Alistair and Mahariel had finished undressing and walked towards the wall to join Thorin at the other side.

There were cries of protest and dismay as the couple walked without at least turning to them. However, before they completely through, Mahariel reached back, put one hand on Alistair’s cheek, and squeezed.

 “You’re going to pay for that later,” Alistair said to her, red in the face, as the hall rang out again with laughter and giggles.  

Menawhile, Zevran had his cake but not eat it when he slid the last of Elissa’s clothing off her leg but she didn’t do as much as turn around. Instead, she looked over her shoulder and said “You can leave.”

“Is that it? No reward for me? Not even a kiss? Oh, what a cruel mistress.”

She smiled and winked at him and walked to the fire, swaying her hips. She knew she looks good at the back and she made everyone know it.

“Hmmm,” Zevran said, as he sat back and watched. The others weren’t so eloquent in their praise.

When everyone else went through, the Guardian appeared and praised them for passing the test. He explained the reason for it and allowed them to take a scoop of the ash before disappearing.

So they were left in the steps, totally naked, in that empty hall.

“So do we now move on to the fun part?” Zevran asked. 

“Yes. We’re going to put on our clothes and armor and get out of here,” Thorin answered.

A chorus of dismay greeted his words.

“We’ve got a dying Arl to heal!”


	97. Chapter 97

Back at camp, Wynne marched over to him, as he expected.

“Did you really meant what you said at the Gauntlet, young man?” She asked him, her face stoic.

“Good. This travesty has gone on long enough,” Amadeus said. He stood up and brushed off leaves from his robes. “Yes, I meant all of it. That ghost would’ve done something if I lied.”

“And so you lied to me then, about repenting what you’ve done.”

He looked at her, a sardonic smile on his lips. “I did not lie. I am only saying what you want me to say.”

Wynne stood back, shocked.

“Oh, don’t look so shocked. We both know that you were also acting, acting the wise elder mage to gain my affection. ”

She rallied. “I don’t know what you were talking about.”

“Don’t pretend. You think I wouldn't notice how you leaped at the chance to moralize when I was at my lowest, like a vulture to a carrion?”

“I was only giving you words of comfort, not knowing that you were…”

“Not blind?”

“Evil.”

He laughed. “There is evil in all of us.”

“If you didn’t want me comforting you, then why do it?”

“ And miss all the fun seeing you puff yourself up even more on your own importance?”

“You are mistaken if you think I am too proud of myself.”

“No, on the contrary, you are not proud enough. At the tower, when you would not let the barrier down if we didn’t let you come along, I knew you were ambitious. You really could not bear being left, when there is still some glory to be found. You insinuated yourself among us, pointing out our flaws and then building them up again to make the others respect you. And if does not work, you use guilt. You want glory, but you also want us to hang on to your every word, like you are used to from the mage apprentices.”

“You are mad. You see shadows where there are none.”

“Is that so? Didn’t you drove away an apprentice because he wouldn’t listen to you? And when you found him again, you want him to go back at the Circle even though you knew he was unhappy there?”

Wynne stepped back, shaking her head. “I regret thinking that you can be redeemed. I regret not knowing that you would stoop so low just to entertain yourself.”

“I wasn’t doing it just for the fun. I knew you still have something to teach, yet I don’t want to fawn over you as others had done.”

“And now, are you done?”

“I have learned everything that you can give.”

She looked at him coolly. “Irving was wrong to think well of you.”

“Irving was wrong to withhold the deaths of my parents from me.”

“He only did that to prevent you from running away and getting killed by the templars.”

“Still, it was my decision to make. But he won’t let me, would he? He wanted to keep me in that thralldom you call the Circle.”

“The Circle was made to keep mages safe from themselves and from everyone around them. It is the only place where mages can be, as they are.”

“And what? End up resigned to a cheerless fate, like you?”

“You could have been happy at the Circle, if you only let it.”

“I was happy at my home until they took me away! But no longer. I would not let them take what is mine without a fight.”

“It seems anything I have to say would not have an effect on you. I only hope that you will see how futile your attempts at happiness is. You will realize that because you spent your life in cruelty and spite, you will never be truly happy. And you will die, alone and hated.”   

“Ill-wishing me? Let me say this in return: I need no one to mourn me. Because I…..am not you.”

* * *

“Hmmm….” Zevran said appreciatively as he looked at the boots Elissa handed  to him. “This is Antivan leather isn’t it? I would know that anywhere! I don’t know how you found it, but thank you.”

“Oh, don’t mention it,” she said, trying not to think how she came by it. She saw it in the shop at Haven and knew it as something Zevran would like. Unfortunately, she was short on cash at that moment but the succeeding events ensured she does not have to scrounge for pennies to pay for it. It’s not stealing if the owner is dead.

 She waited as he admired it longer. “Well?”

“Well, what?”

“Try it on.”

“But I’m not finished admiring them yet. Can you smell that? Like rotting flesh. Just like back in Antiva City.” But he did as she asked. He wore them, and stretched one foot out to admire them even more. “Now, if you only found me a prostitute or two, a bowl of fish chowder and a corrupt politician, I’d really feel if I was at home. And they fit as well, marvelous.”

It was the wrong thing to say. “I’m sure I could find you the last two, but you have to find the first one yourself,” she said, coolly as she marched off.

He smiled at her back, amused, then thought that he would have to think of something to thank her.

* * *

When they were near the Tower of Magi, Tabris and the men asked Thorin if they could pop in the Spoiled Princess for a bit. He thought of inviting the dwarf for drinks, but Brosca said “We ain’t takin him. I’ve nothin against him, but a handsome dwarf like him, Oghren ain’t gonna stand a chance.” Oghren punctuated this with a snort and a grumble about the sort of friends they are.

“No offense, Oghren, you’re not exactly someone ladies would swoon over,” Tabris said.

“Ha!You haven’t seen yet what Daddy Oghren could do,” Oghren replied with a belch. “Hey, Chantry boy! You coming?” he asked Alistair.

“Huh?” Alistair replied, his head turned to Mahariel. He couldn’t hear them over those pair of grey-green eyes.

“I said-oh, forget it.” He spotted Amadeus still sitting and reading a book by the campfire. “What about you? You coming?” he asked the mage.

“ I have better things to do with my time.”

“You mean that?” He then snatched the book out of his hands. He held up the book to prove his point. “You’re not going to get a woman to keep you warm by burying your head in that. Come with us. Let Daddy Oghren show you the ropes. Women gonna be writhing under you in no time.”

Amadeus reacted as expected. “Oh, I am so grateful to you, Master Oghren,” he simpered. “Thank you for allowing me to learn your secrets in attracting such beastly women.”

“Haha. That’s what I’m talking ab-what?”

“Now, Amadeus. Thorin had just told us to play nice with the other children,” Tabris reprimanded. The mage just huffed in reply. “If you don’t want to come, you can just say so, you know.”

“Too late. My evening is ruined.”

“Don’t be so dramatic.”

“I am not. In fact, I am now genuinely interested in whatever you’re planning to do.”

“If you say so,” Tabris replied, with a quirked brow at him. “What were you reading anyway?” he asked, taking the book from Oghren and read the title. “ _ _Tevene for Barbarians: An easy guide to speaking the Empire’s Language__.” He flipped the book to read the back cover. “ _ _Dear Reader, if you are holding this, then you are worthy of our attention. By recognizing the superiority of our Empire and our language, you have proven to have some niggling intelligence despite being born a heathen. In your hands is a guide, especially adapted for primitive minds, guaranteed to make you speak Tevene fluently like a civilized person and completely forget the grunts, snorts and belches your fellow barbarians use as a language.__

 _ _Should you find yourself in our Empire destitute and in need of sustenance or finally known your place, worry not. This book also includes a guide in understanding the meaning of twitches, lashes and blows so as to please your new master and make your presence less offensive to their precious eyes.”__  

He stared at it for a little while longer, then said, “I really need a drink.”

So off they go to the inn, where they found it half-full with travelers such as themselves. A dwarf woman was wiping down the tables. She looks plain and careworn, with her mouse brown hair tucked in an unruly bun and wearing a dirty apron. Not someone they would expect to be worthy of courting.

Still Oghren was sure it was her so they lingered at the doorway to strategize.

“So, Oghren, I thinkyou know what to do?”

Oghren looked wildly around for a moment. “Er…I might..ah, need your help. Can you stay behind me if I might need some…backing up,” he asked them, his bravado completely disappearing.

Zevran tutted at him. “Nonsense, my friend. There is nothing more unattractive to a woman than a man with no confidence.” He took hold of his shoulders and spun him around towards her.

“We’ll be nearby should you need anything,” Tabris said behind them. They gave him a little push. He nearly stumbled, gave them a look, but he swaggered towards her.

“Let’s take a table. We don’t want to make it look like we’re mobbing her,” Zevran advised. They seated themselves at one on a discreet distance from the pair.

“Alright, let’s see Oghren in action then,” Tabris said, rubbing his hands.

“It’d be better with drinks,” Brosca said, calling one of the waitresses.

“Shh, quiet. He’s approaching her now.”

Oghren stood in front of the woman and cleared his throat. The woman looked up and he said, “Are you sure you’re not a baker? Because you’ve got a nice set of buns.”

The others stared at him. Amadeus leaned back and said, “So this is your ladykiller? I’m impressed.”

“Oghren? Is that you?” the woman asked.

“Yeah. In the flesh, baby,” he said, slapping his chest loudly.

“What are you doing here?” she said, more in exasperation than pleasure in seeing him.

“Just trying to kick up a pint. Fighting darkspawn is a lot of sodding work, you know?”

“You’re fighting darkspawn?” she asked in disbelief. Their conversation continued in that vein, with Oghren trying to feed her shit about doing a favor for the King of Orzammar, then fate leading him here at her tavern, then a slander against poor Lady Helmi but she was having none of it.

“What do you want, Oghren?” she asked, now annoyed.

“Nothing. Just want to see how you doing, is all. Well maybe that and grease up the bronto, you know what I mean.”

She made one final wipe of the table before tucking the rag into her apron. “Well, you’ve seen me. You have to go to Orzammar for the bronto.”

“Oh, no, he’s losing her,” Tabris said worriedly. Amadeus drained his mug, stood up and walked over to the dwarves. “I hate to interrupt,” he began, “but Oghren, we need to go soon. We can’t keep the Queen waiting.”

She was intrigued. “Queen who?”

“The Queen of Ferelden, of course.”

“Oh, the queen need a new fool, does she?” Felsi asked. She was trying not to believe and yet he saw something glimmer in her eyes.

“Far from it. I am a Grey Warden and Oghren here is vital to our campaign against the darkspawn. The queen would want to hear our progess,” he said, idly, as if he and Oghren were frequent visitors of Anora.

“Oh, Right. Well, it’s been fun, Felsi, but you hear him. I’d better go,” Oghren said.

She reached out to stop him. “Wait! You’re leaving? You’ve just got here. I haven’t called you a shaft rat yet,” she said. Amadeus chose this time to return to their table.

“We’re meeting with the Queen?” Tabris asked him when he took his seat.

“I don’t think so,” Zevran answered, chuckling, “but it seems Oghren is going to meet his queen today.”

As the others watched Oghren and Felsi exchanged such endearing pet names like “nug droppings” and “frigid deepstalker,” Tabris could not help but stare in shock.

“Is this real? Is she actually flirting with Oghren?” the elf asked, his jaw dropped at the sight.

“What’s yer problem? Oghren ain’t that bad to look at.”

“Yeah, but really? If I’ve tried that with a woman, smelling like drink and unwashed since Maker knows when, I’d be slapped from side to side.”

“Ah. You must know, my friend, that some women prefer those dressed impeccably while other prefer a specimen of such…virility. Why, I happen to know a lady who likes- Ah, the target of such fantasies!” Zevran said, smiling in remembrance.

“And then you offed her.”

“No! Not as crude as that. I am not as unprincipled as you think. I do make sure my targets are satisfied with their lives before I send them to the Void. Well, most of the time.”

“How very considerate of you,” Amadeus said, lifting his mug to drink.

“Uh, donna look now, but there’s ladies looking at ye,” Brosca said to Tabris.

“Oh, really?” Tabris asked eagerly. He straightened in his seat and acted natural when two girls approached them to his side.

“Excuse me, But I just want to ask, are you staying here longer, my lord?” asked one of them.

Tabris turned around to answer then stopped.  _ _Wait-my lord?__

He looked to where the girl was looking at and found she was looking at Amadeus, who was beside him. Amadeus was also surprised, caught mid-drink. But he regained his composure early and set his mug down. “Ah, yes, we were just passing by,” he said, smiling a little. Tabris gaped at him, at how unfairly handsome he looks with a genuine smile on his face.

“But this is rather out of the way.”

“I heard the view outside is beautiful. I came here to see for myself. Imagine my surprise to see such surpassing loveliness here,” he said, with a look that said he was not talking about the pretty lake.

The girl started to titter but stopped herself and said “Well, it’d be lonely watching the lake alone. We’d been here a lot of times. We could show you some of the attractions here if you want. We’d be here for a few days.”

Amadeus lifted his mug to toast them. He kept smiling until they were gone. Then he looked at his side and saw Tabris staring at him goggle-eyed.

“What do they see in you?” the elf asked him, narrowing his eyes.

“Women are not immune to beauty, you know,” Zevran said, amused. He got up to get drinks.

“But…you’re eeeeeevil,” the elf insisted.

“And I have no intention of changing that. As you can see, evil has a certain…charm,” the mage answered.

Tabris looked at him, then at the table. “My life is a lie,” he said in despair.

Zevran reappeared, carrying drinks for them all. “Here you go. I’ve asked for the strongest drink they have. That should be enough to make you forget of this horrible, horrible, nightmare. Tomorrow, you’re going to wake up the happy contented elf we all know who treats women nicely, yes?”

At that moment, Oghren walked back to their table in high spirits, having concluded his business satisfactorily. “What did I miss?” he asked, as he saw Tabris drinking himself to oblivion.

* * *

“He-ey!” Alistair said in surprise as Mahariel was one moment, sitting beside him and the next, on his lap, her back to him, shifting like cat would, finding a comfortable spot on a couch. The couch was him.

Finally, she settled, and it took time before he said, “You know, this is reaallly nice, but people will talk.”

“Let them talk.”

“Really? I thought we’re supposed to be a secret.”

“We keep no secrets within the clan.”

“Wow. Is that how it is with the Dalish?”

“That is how it is done with a clan. For we are clan, are we not?”

He thought about it. “Yeah, you can say that.”

“Then I do not see why it should be different.”

“Well, because we’re not all small, and have pointy ears like you?”

She turned around, her back moving fluidly, and kissed lightly on his earlobe. “I like your ears.”

“Just the ears?” he asked, wiggling them.

“And the rest of them too.”

At that moment, he knew there was no one else he’d rather be with.“You know, you do say the sweetest things, if you really tried.”

She trailed little kisses from his ear to his mouth. “Only for you,” she whispered, her breath hot on his skin.

He smiled, then lifted her chin to kiss her deep.

“Ahem. You have a tent. Get. In. It.” Amadeus appeared near them, with a tankard and a book. He tried walking past them to get near the campfire, when Mahariel put out one leg and he went sprawling, tankard and all. Alistair laughed despite himself, while Mahariel just smiled.   

Amadeus stared at the mug in front of him, its contents completely disappearing into the ground, then turned around to glare at them.

A little while later, the others trickled in. Alistair tried to get her off him, but she stayed put. So he desisted. The wardens took one look at the two of them, then either give knowing looks (mostly the men), or adoring ones (mostly the women). Neria however, did neither.  

She peered close to his face. Too close.

“Did you two get stuck together?”

“Go away Neria.” He’s not going to let her to ruin this.

“Come here, Neria. If you want, you can do that with me too,” Elissa said.

Neria glared at him one more time before settling around Elissa’arms.

“And what about me?” Zevran asked Elissa.

“You can ask Ser Barker. I’m sure he’ll say yes.”

The dog responded with a woof.

Then Morrigan came up. “Good, all are present. I do not relish the prospect of-Warts and toadstools! I shall be sick!” she exclaimed and hurried away.

Alistair hugged Mahariel closer. “Yep, I’m definitely liking this.”

Thorin was just behind Morrigan and they were blocked from his view. He was looking at her as she ran, holding his nose where she bumped it in her haste. Then he looked ahead and stopped dead in his tracks.

“Pretend Alistair is a chair,” Tabris suggested, when Thorin was still gaping.

He closed his mouth and gave Mahariel a look. She held his gaze but did not move.

Fraternizing is permitted, but that does not mean rubbing it in.

He sighed when he realized he was not going to win the staring contest and took his seat.

“Don’t tell me you never did that with Morrigan,” Tabris asked him, nodding at the two.

“She is not a cuddler,” he said, nodding at where Morrigan had gone.

“And you are?”

“Of course I do. The bone crushing sort.”

“Guess the darkspawn are the only ones who can appreciate that.”


	98. Chapter 98

After a particularly nasty remark of Morrigan’s, the other Wardens decided they had enough.

Elissa took them aside and told them one by one to meet on a clearing near their camp for an emergency meeting, far away from Morrigan and Thorin. When they finally showed up, Elissa announced, “We need to talk about Morrigan.”

“Oh, Maker. We don’t really need to talk more about her, don’t we? I don’t want to think about her, let alone talk,” Alistiar said, as befits the one whom the witch was particularly fond of roasting.

“That’s why we have to do something about her. It’s bad enough that she’s with us, but she doesn’t even try to get along with everybody,” Elissa said.

“Aye. Soddin witch’s smart enough to hold her tongue when the boss is around,” Brosca added.

“Why is she here again?” Tabris wondered.

“Her mother got tired of her and gave her to us to have some peace and quiet for a change,” Alistair answered. "Worse for us."

"Ooooh, like, her mother says like "Can you take her off my hands for a while? She's been turning our neighbors into toads again," Tabris said.

"And then she says later: "Can you find some hole while you're at it? And then push her right in so maybe she can have some deep thoughts."

Another idea crossed Tabris' mind and he clapped in joy. "I know how we can kill the Archdemon! Dragons like maidens right?" he asked them all."We could dangle her in front of it-"

"-and then we cut off its neck while it's distracted. Brilliant," Alistair finished, nodding. 

“Both of you be serious,” Elissa said.

Alistair sighed. “Her mother says we're taking care of her as payment for saving us from the tower,” he explained, much more somber this time.

“Yes. And also, she’s with Thorin,” Elissa added.

“I don’t think she’s with anyone. I think they are just sleeping together,” Amadeus clarified.

“That’s not the point. The truth is, she’s too close to him. What if when they’re together, she’s whispering some things to him? Something that’s bad for us?” Elissa asked, looking at them all in the eye one by one.

“That’s rich, coming from someone who’s dating an assassin,” Tabris pointed out.

“Oh, I know how to handle Zevran, Elissa said, flipping a lock of her hair. "I’ve met plenty of his kind in Orlais. There was one time a bard tried to spy on my father through me, while all the while he was with another girl. I caught them in the act on a box of the Grand Royeaux Theater and gave them so much trouble they never appeared within sight of me ever again.”

“Well, good on you, I suppose. He deserves it for being a cheat.”

She stared at Tabris. “I wasn’t mad at him because he cheated. I was mad at him because, unlike the other girl, he never took me to the Grand Royeaux Theater.”

Tabris brows shot up as he stared at her. “Well, I’m glad that at least you know your priorities,” he said shortly.

Alistair called them back to the problem. “Why don’t you do it? Aren’t you friends?” Alistair asked Amadeus.

“We are not friends,” the mage answered.

“Really? Because I think I heard you two laugh together like....you know, evilly?”

“If we were, we were probably figuring out who has the best laugh.”

“Wait…You’re actually doing evil laugh contests now?”

“Of course. Do you want to hear mine?”

“Uh…no. I have a feeling I won’t be able to get any sleep. Ever.”

Tabris steered them back to the problem of the witch. “Anyway, back to Morrigan. Alright, she may be whispering something evil to Thorin. But he’s smart enough not to agree to everything she says.”

“We have to stop her. We have to make sure she never does that,” Elissa insisted.

“So what, we kick her out? I have a feeling Thorin’s not going to agree to that without having a really big reason other than we don’t like her,” Tabris reasoned.

“We don’t need to involve him. We just need her away from him.”

“So we’re breaking them up? I don’t know Elissa but….that’s really none of our business.”

“It is, if she’s giving him bad advice. She might not now, but she probably will at some point. So, are you in?”

They all looked at each other in silence. Finally Amadeus spoke up. “Leave me out of this. This is a ridiculous idea.”

“So, you just allow Thorin to listen to her?”

“If he is a fool to fall for it. When that time comes, I’ll remind him of it.”

Mahariel too, declined. “This is foolish. I refuse to be part of this.”

It seems they were the only ones who did not disapprove of the witch. When they were gone, Tabris asked Elissa “I assume you have a plan?”

“We need to separate them. That means we need to watch her,” the noble said.

“Alright. Do we need to do this together or what?”

“We take turns." She turned to the dwarf. "Brosca, you don’t mind going first, do you? You’re not as intimidated by her, aren’t you?”

“Sure. Just say the word,” Brosca answered.

So the witch was very surprised when Brosca dropped down beside her. She took no notice of him, however, and continued going along as before. But their camp was filled with little flying insects, and before long Brosca had one in his nose. She stared in disgust at the dwarf, as he blew his nose loudly in front of her.  But she could not continue keeping quiet, when Brosca stuck one finger up to fish it out.

“Have you nothing better to do, other than stare at me like an ugly toad?” she asked him finally.

“Ain’t starin at ye. Ye ain’t what I like,” he replied, brushing the finger on his pants.

“And what is it that you like, I wonder? A foul-smelling, hideous and dim-witted one? Or was that your mother?”  

“Ye shut yer trap about my mother!”

“OOoooh, that hit a nerve.”

He stood up, his face red with rage. “Ye ain’t got right to talk about me mother, cos yer mother ain’t better! She been doin nothin but whore around with that cunt of hers. Ain’t gonna be surprised she fucked some ‘spawn to get ye!”

And that was the start of the insult marathon. It got so loud and so vicious, Thorin had to go break them up.

“Do I really need to tell you to get along? Really? How old are you?” he yelled at the two of them. They muttered their apologies and from that point on, went out of each other’s way.

At the next meeting, Elissa frowned at the dwarf. “You’re not supposed to get them together,” Elissa scolded.

Brosca scowled.“Soddin witch” was all he ever said to explain himself.

 “So, Brosca is out, I think," Elissa concluded. "He’s never going to get close to her now without provoking her. Tabris, you’re up.”

So it was that the witch raised a brow when the elf came by her tent. Just as before, she kept silent, waiting for the other to make his move. He did, finally, when the silence became too unbearable.  

“Nice shawl,” he said, having no other topic to think of.

She smiled, now knowing what kind of man he is. “Isn’t it just?” she said, subtly adjusting to reveal the best view to her cleavage. Soon enough, she have him cooking her delicious dainties and waiting on her hand and foot.

“You’re supposed to watch her! Not cook her…” Elissa motioned with her hand to describe it.

“Canapes,” Tabris answered, determined not to look on Leliana’s direction, who was understandably looking furious.

Neria tugged at his sleeve. “I want one,” she said, and soon enough, the others were clamoring for theirs too.

“No! No canapes for everyone! Not before we sort this out,” Elissa scolded on their lack of focus. She turned to the ex-templar. “Alistiar, can you watch her?”

“Uh, no, bad idea. I can tell you now how this will turn out. We’d be quarreling then one of us is going to run away in tears. Probably me,” he replied without shame.  

Elissa rubbed her head. “Then we go with Neria. Can you do that?” she asked the mage.

“Um, Elissa, is this a really good idea?” Tabris asked.

It wasn’t, as Neria and the witch share the same target. Soon enough, they heard them talking about how best to cook Alistair. Boil him, mash him, stick in a stew, perhaps?

“Someone stop them before they form a coven,” Alistair said, nervously looking at the pair of witches. Elissa put a stop to it and called Neria back.

“So who’s going next?” she asked.

But they were busy eating canapes.

“Good grub,” Brosca said to Tabris and gobbled another one. The elf then turned to Alistair. “Hey Alistair, can you tell Mahariel if she can find us some fish? I’m getting tired of roasts. It’s always roasts around here. But I’ve got some roots here so if there’s fish, I might make some chips to go with it.”

While Alistair replied at the elf, Elissa stared at them all. “I guess it’s up to me, then,” she said.

She did it cheerily enough, dropping by Morrigan’s with her workbasket and acting like they’ve been friends. The witch was amused by this, but, as with the others, watched what this one will do.

It seems she’s going to bore her to death.

“Is that all?” she asked, rudely interrupting Elissa’s stream of chatter about what her friends had used to do. Mostly silly little things, like the ridiculous lengths they did just to have a glimpse on their crushes, funny anecdotes about shoes and clothes. In short, nothing that interests her.

“Pardon?”

 “I have a better story to tell. How about I tell you what my mother does when we have visitors?”

“Oh, alright,” Elissa said, mortified, but too polite to say no to her. 

Morrigan smiled and she began to tell her about how her mother lure men to their hut, have sex with them and kill them. She dwelled mostly on the gristly parts, describing the ways her mother stalked, tortured, raped and then killed her victims, in such details that leave no doubt of her being present in those scenes. As for her involvement, Flemeth said all that was “character building”. As she told Elissa this, she remembered how she held a man down as her mother killed him, all the while being told this is what happens to trust and kindness; that those exist only as weaknesses to be exploited.

“Are you alright? You look a little....pale,” Morrigan asked the girl sweetly, even though she saw her hands were trembling as they gripped the basket.

“Um, yes, it was just…it was just so very..thrilling,” Elissa answered, her voice tremulous.

“Indeed. Well? Shall I continue on? Or should we continue…perhaps tomorrow?”

“Uh, I think…tomorrow. I just remembered that I forgot to do something. Thank you, Morrigan for the…story,” she said, hurriedly standing up, nearly spilling her basket, and she fled.

Morrigan waited until she was out of earshot then started laughing.   

At the next meeting, the others looked with concern as Elissa marched in and began yelling, surprising them all. “She is an evil deceiving witch! I want her gone!”

“Calm down, Elissa. What’s gotten into you?” Alistair asked, trying to pacify her.

She choked back her horror as she remembered Morrigan’s stories. “Just…some evil things. I-we need to get her out of here.”

“Give up, Elissa. There’s nothing we can do about her. We’ll never get rid of her unless Thorin wants to,” Tabris repeated.

She looked at them all and saw they were not as committed to this as she does. If only they heard what Morrigan told her. “Fine! You've given up, but I’m not. One way or another, I will make her leave,” she promised.

* * *

Wynne looked at each of them with her stern teacher look as they gathered around the main campfire. She is not happy with them having relationships while there is the Blight and Loghain to deal with. She thought this only interferes with the performance of their duties. You see, Wynne is the type of old person who never had much fun in her youth, and so encourage others to do the same.

She started with Thorin. “I noticed your blossoming relationship with Morrigan and I have to ask you about it.”

Thorin thought this was none of her business, since he is a grown man after all. But there’s no harm in it so he decided to humor the old lady. “You don’t like her, do you?” he asked her with a dry tone.

“She is a cunning woman, a maleficar. She will use you for her own ends. Tell me, what do you see in her?”

“Well, for starters, I don’t have to do anything to make her bend.”

“Now be serious.”

“Well, she is pretty and she is useful. That’s all I’m going to say about her.”

Wynne was not satisfied with his answer but it was all she is going to get out of him. “This is what I fear. You are a grey warden. You have responsibilities and I fear you will neglect them. The title is not a coat that you can cast at the end of the day. It should inform your every action. Your every decision. The way you are acting now, it is not fitting for a grey warden.”

“I’m well aware of that. But I am old enough to manage my own affairs. Whether Morrigan is with us or not, I have never forgotten my duty.”

Wynne saw he was done talking about them so she asked Elissa about her affairs next. Mahariel was unperturbed by this, but Tabris, knowing now where this conversation is going, was squirming in his seat. He thought he was going to be exempted from this talk since his mother died but here he is.

“How about you, young lady? I noticed you have grown closer to Zevran," Wynne said to Elissa. "But it seems he has only one thing on his mind. I question the wisdom of the Grey Warden being involved in such an affair.”

Elissa was versed in this sort of conversations, since her mother regularly quizzed her on her various flings. So she knew a little flattery will go a long way. She did not defend Zevran. It was only a harmless flirtation, nothing more. She assured her that she knew of his previous profession and thanked her for telling her to be on her guard.

Satisfied, Wynne turned to Mahariel next. She was at a loss sometimes on how to speak to the Dalish elf, since they never have much common ground in their experiences. But Mahariel treated her respectfully as befit her age. Unknown to her, the elf looked at her as sort of a keeper and so paid the usual respect, despite being human. So, like a kindly old woman, she asked her. “I want to know about you and Alistair. It’s hard not to notice the doe eyed looks he gives you, especially when he thinks no one is watching," she said, teasing this time. "It’s almost too sweet for my tastes and I’m an old lady who should be making lace hearts and fuzzy blankets with animal motifs. Alistair is a fine lad, skilled in battle but really inexperienced when it comes to affair of the heart. I would hate to see him get hurt.”

Mahariel answered her as she would to her mother in law. “Alistair is precious to me, as precious to me as my own self. I will never hurt him.”

Wynne nodded. “I see. But love is ultimately selfish. It demands that one be devoted on a single person, who might fully occupy one’s heart and mind to the exclusion of all else. A grey warden cannot afford to be selfish. You may be forced to make a choice between saving your love and everyone else.”

Mahariel frowned, considering it. “I shall think of what you said. But at this time, I cannot give him up.”

Wynne looked at her, in understanding and in pity. “There is potential for tragedy here, for one or both of you. You may have to give him, to save one or both of you unnecessary anguish later on.”

Next, she turned to Tabris. As usual, she said what she thought of Leliana, a kind soul, a devout woman, and dreaming to be one with the faith. She explained that she had nothing against him except for his duty as a Grey Warden. Tabris squirmed, stuttered, stammered his way to an explanation and so she properly chastened him and gave him advice, which practically ensured his celibacy in the next few days.  Finally, they were finished and she let them go. “I have given my advice. Do with it what you will,” she concluded, and dismissed them.

As they walked back to their tents, Elissa whispered her concern to Tabris about her scheme with Wynne not working with the dwarf.   

“Give up, Elissa. You’ve done enough. We’d only get rid of Morrigan if Thorin did it himself,” Tabris said irritably, being the one who got the worst of the arrangement. He walked off before Elissa could rope him in again with her schemes.

Deserted, Elissa made one last effort to get rid of the witch.

Elissa cornered the dwarf, facing him and asked “I simply don’t know what Morrigan saw in you.”

“I take it I am not the kind of person human women would see as attractive?’

She attempted to say something courteous that he has attractive qualities, etc which some women may find attractive. Just not humans.

“Elissa, I have lived with myself for decades. There’s nothing you can say about my appearance that can hurt me now,” Thorin said.

“Well, usually, women fall for men with a handsome face, a fine figure and…tall”

He laughed. “So you say you never expected Morrigan to like me because I’m short?”

“Pardon me, but yes. I think that. And don’t you not like it that she’s taller than you?”

“Actually, I’m quite content with it, because you see, the view from my height are quite magnificent,” he said, staring straight ahead.

Elissa looked to where he was staring and glared. “I should slap you for that.”

“Hmm. Don’t. You’ll break your hand.”


	99. Chapter 99

“So we’re back in the Korcari Wilds. Yay,” Tabris commented without much joy as they trudged through the forest. “I did miss this place, what with the poisonous snakes-” he jumped over one as it slithered beneath his feet “-stinging gnats, evil trees. And of course our lovely neighbors the barbarian cannibals.”

“We’re not sightseeing,” Thorin said, swinging his ax to clear a path. “We’re going to Morrigan’s mother.”

“O-ho. So you’re going to finally ask for her permission to woo Morrigan?”

“No. We’re going to kill her.”

Tabris stopped walking. “Did I hear it right? You want to kill an old lady?”

“She’s not an old lady, she’s a powerful witch,” Thorin replied.

“She’s not? Weren’t you the one who said she was just an old lady and we’re just scaring ourselves with those Witch of the Wilds nonsense?”

“I did say that until she got us out of the tower of Ishal. You think one frail old lady had managed to kill all those darkspawn and carried us out one by one to her hut?”

“Hey, you never know. Old ladies are sneaky. They know a lot of old lady tricks and before you know it, you’d be eating casserole listening as she tells you a story and knits you socks. Just look at Wynne.”

Thorin explained to them what Morrigan discovered in Flemeth’s fake grimoire and why it was necessary that Flemeth has to be stopped. When he finished, Tabris shook his head. “Wow. I can understand getting away from your parents, but killing your own mother? That’s just excessive, don’t you think?”

“So’s taking over the body of your own child.”

Amadeus interrupted. “So what’s the plan?” 

“The plan is to kill her and take her grimoire,” Thorin replied.

“So we kill an old lady and then rob her? Is that supposed to make it better? Because it isn’t working,” Tabris commented.

“If all goes well, there won’t be any killing. I just took you along just in case it went bad.”

“Alright. We’ll just hide in those bushes then, pretending we’re not curious.”

Thorin stopped long enough for them to hide out of sight. He wanted to take Mahariel with them, for she seemed to know something about Flemeth, but he never caught her before sunrise so they would have to do. He approached the hut.

Strangely, Flemeth was standing just outside the door, as if she expected them.

“So you have returned,” she greeted. “Lovely Morrigan has finally found someone to dance to her tune. Such enchanting music she plays, wouldn’t you say?”

He felt his conscience ease a bit as she said those words. For if she truly was a loving mother, she would not chose to humiliate her child in front of strangers. “I know your secret.”

She laughed. “Which one, I wonder? What has Morrigan told you? I wonder what plan has she hatched this time?”

Thorin told her about her secret to immortality, her taking over her daughter’s body when near death from old age. “That is what she believed,” he added.

She nodded. “That she does. But the question is, do you? Ah, but it is an old story that Flemeth has heard before and even told.” She stood up straigther and said more briskly, “Let’s skip right to the ending. Will you do as Morrigan bids, or does the tale take a different end?”

“I want to know the truth.”

“The truth? As if it were nothing?,” she asked, surprised. “How like a man. No, no, it is far better to lie. Far better than blankets and shadows and a mother’s love. Morrigan wishes my grimoire? Take it as a trophy. Tell her I am slain.”

“And you will leave?”

“I go. Perhaps I will surprise Morrigan one day or I may simply watch. It’ll be interesting to see what she does with her freedom. Enlightening, even. Would you give an old woman that?”

Thorin was silent, deliberating. “You were never going to leave her alone, weren’t you?” he asked quietly.

“And why would I? She is my child. You can quite be free of your parents.”

Which is more important, to honor a debt but condemn a life to possession, or to free her for a time but entrap yourself along with her fate? He made his decision. He drew his ax and pointed it at her. “I’m sorry, but I cannot let you go. But we both know this isn’t the end for you. You’ll come back eventually. I’m just knocking you out temporarily.”

“As you wish,” she said, turning around to walk to the clearing. “This is a dance Flemeth knows. Let us see if she remembers it well," she murmured, before turning around to face him. “Come, she will have what she takes. I will have no other way,” she challenged. she swept her hands and her being filled with light, growing brighter, bigger, stronger until she turned into a......dragon.

DRRRRRRAAAAAAAAAAAAGGGGGGGGGGOOOOOOOOOOOONNNNNNNNNNN!!!!

Back at the bushes, they watched wide eyed as they saw Flemeth transform. A minute passed with their mouths hanging open before they sprang into action, running towards Thorin.

The dragon saw them, hissed, reared back its head, and shot a fireball. 

"Keep running!" Amadeus shouted as they headed to the back of hut, Thorin included. He swept his staff and the fireball burst into flames as it hit the barrier. 

“Tell me you have a plan for that!” Tabris shouted at Thorin when they had met behind the hut.

“I don’t so we’ll just have to wing it!” the dwarf shouted back as fire shot through at his side.

“WING IT? Holy Andraste, save us, we’re going to die!” the elf wailed as fire passed through his side too.

 Then they saw Mahariel running toward them, with rope on her belt. She reached them and squeezed in. “Flemeth…can turn into a dragon,” she panted. They all look at her and said at the same time “You don’t say.”

“So are we going to just sit here to be roasted?” Alistair asked. Thorin peeked at the corner to look at the dragon. “We need to keep her from flying or we’re all dead.”

“Then I need to be at her back. Vhenan, you have to throw me,” she said to Alistair.

“Um, not to mention that that sounds crazy, we’ll be set on fire before we could be near enough to throw you,” he answered.

“We do not need to get close,” she said, tying the rope on an arrow.

“That means you need cover. I’m going first. Tabris, follow me if you have a chance. Amadeus stay here,” Thorin said and held his shield in front of him. He peeked at the dragon and saw it pause to draw breath. “Go!” he shouted. Amadeus fired a bolt at the dragon's head as the dwarf started to run. He held his shield in front, yelling like a demon and running like hell at the dragon.  He rolled underneath, swung his ax and chopped the nearest toe, running away deeper into its underbelly. The dragon reached under, maw snapping after the dwarf.

Alistair stood up and threw Mahariel in the air, who had drawn her bow with the arrow and rope. She shot at the outstretched wing midair, caught the end of the rope, and swung underneath the other wing and over. She swung herself on its back, drew her knives out and slashed at the membranes of its wing, making great tears as she leaped from wing to wing.  

The dragon roared, rearing its head back to pluck the elf off its wings, but Tabris slashed at its leg, severing the tendon between foot and claw. Thorin ax bit deeper into its front leg, making it unable to stand higher.  

"Here, you ugly beastie!" Alistair taunted in front of it when it tried going after the elf again. He took cover behind his shield as the dragon snapped at him. 

The dragon turned around to bite the people weaving in and out of its legs, chopping and slashing at its feet, crippling it, while the elf kept tearing in its wings. Mahariel finished cutting holes in its wings, drew out her bow and started shooting at the spot between nape and head, directly below the skull. The dragon drew its head out to bite her, but Alistair slashed at its neck and blood burst from a vein. Thorin swung his ax deep into its leg when it tried to bite Alistair in half, making it roar. While it was distracted, Tabris cut a hole between shoulder and rib and shouted for Alistair. Alistair ducked underneath, ran to the spot where Tabris was, and shoved his sword deep into the hole. The dragon roared as the sword pierced its heart and its claw shot out to take it out. Thorin hacked at the other leg, sending it dowon to the side and Alistair twisted the sword deep. The dragon roared again, its neck dropping, its legs giving up from too many wounds. Alistair drew out his sword and walked over near its neck, where he swung it to end its misery. It stumbled, reeling and rolling, until at last, it lay dead. 

It was over. The dragon lay dead in a heap, the Wardens around it, panting. All of them looked exhausted and relieved, except Mahariel. She stared in shock at the corpse.

“Ashabellanar is dead, and I have killed her,” she moaned.

“Er, she lived a long life I suppose,” Alistair said awkwardly, unsure to comfort her, as she was the only one who is genuinely distraught that the witch is dead.

Thorin went in the hut and came back with the grimoire. “Let’s go. The sun’s already setting.”

As they headed back to camp, Tabris muttered “That witch had better be grateful.”

* * *

Back at camp, Thorin handed the book to Morrigan. She accepted it without a word, without once asking about what happened. Even though she had orchestrated the murder of her mother, she seems not to feel any jubilation for the death of her enemy. In fact, her spirits are rather…low.

“This is a heavy debt that I owe you. Do you have other things in mind for your reward?”

“A few words of thanks is enough.”

“Then you have my thanks.”

 She was a bit puzzled by his request so she began again. “I wonder why you should ask such a simple thing. Other men would have asked for something more from me, for I doubt my mother would have made it easy for you to kill her. And yet you only ask for a few words. Why is that?”

“Why should you think anyone should ask for something in return for their help?” 

She laughed as if he was a simple-minded child. “That is the way of the world, is it not? Every act between people is in a form of giving and receiving, which, depending on your skill, may tip it from one or the other.”

“Not all of them. That’s not what happens for say, friends.”

“Ah, yes friendship, that which everyone loves to praise," she sneered. "But it is nothing more than an alliance for mutual benefit, whether to give worth to oneself due to being incapable of doing it alone, to receive a service for service rendered, and to have a sense of safety. In short, a way for the weak to thrive in a dangerous world by putting oneself in a herd."

He did not answer so she continued. "The world is divided into two: the hunter and the hunted.The hunted would always invent things to secure their survival, such as the friendship you and everyone else pride on. I need it not, for I am no prey.”

“Don’t you have friends when you were young?”

“Why would I have them?”

“Well, you must be lonely with only your mother for company.”

“I can amuse myself well enough. But even if I am inclined to want the companionship of other children, how could I have them? From my observations of these so-called friendships, they involve exchanging stories about trivial things from their lives. Do you think the children of my youth would be glad to hear that my mother would sometimes let me braid the hair of her victim before she cuts his head off? Or when I was ten, my mother gave me for my birthday, not a doll, but a doughty old farmer to practice my spells on?”

Thorin thought she has a point and so clarified what friends do to each other. “Friends give to each other freely, without strings attached.”

“Then they were swindled. Only a fool would do something for nothing.”

Thorin was silent for a moment. “I am sorry to hear that,” he said softly, with a look she couldn’t identify. It wasn’t pity; it lacks the relief to not be in her position. He wasn’t besotted either; his eyes lack the vapid but eager look to hear her wishes. No, it is something else, something between the two; one she hadn’t seen yet. 

Then she suddenly felt anxious. 

“So, do you have anything to request from me?" she asked. She tried, but strangely, she cannot muster the same coolness of voice as she once had. "Or are you content with those paltry words of mine?”

“Yes, I do want something from you, Morrigan. But not in the way you think.”

He bade her a good day, before standing up and walking away. She let him go, watching, puzzled more than ever.

* * *

The next time they met, she greeted him with this: “You are one wicked dwarf.”

“What did I do now?” he asked, spreading his hands in mock surprise.

“Must you keep me in suspense for longer about telling me what you wish from me?”

“Is everything always about getting as much as you can?”

“Yes of course. It is the most rational thing to do. Well, do speak and I shall try my best to fulfill it.”

“Do you want me to press you to do something for me?”

“Of course not. It would be unpleasant for me, yes, but you should have. You should always make most of your advantage. ”

He just stood there, looking at her with that wry smile on his face. “I wouldn’t force you to do something you don’t want, Morrigan. I thought you knew that.”

“That is…novel,” she said, surprised. Her mind cannot decide if he is a fool or not. But he doesn’t look like a fool, for if he did, she would have wrapped him around her finger by now. He did her bidding yes, but only on things he agree with. Overall, he never did something of hers just because she said so. She thought for a moment then came up with something she absolutely do not believe in.

“Is it love?” she asked, with as much sarcasm as she could muster. “Do you wish me to love you?” she said mockingly.

For a strange reason, she was afraid if he had said yes. Her view of him would have sunk lower, for she knew love is something people say to satisfy their lust and fool the other give in to their wants with no cost to themselves. She knew her life would be easier if he said yes, but why.....why does she wish him not to?

He only chuckled at that and said “I leave you to your imagination. Stone knows it’s lively enough.”

* * *

Elissa watched Zevran flirt with Amadeus without much success. The mage showed no interest, not responding to his flirting or else sending the elf away with a flea on his ear. So when the elf walked away from Zevran the mage for the fifth time, she decided to confront Zevran about his behavior.

“So you like him, don’t you?” she asked, walking beside him.

“Why else would I not? Do you object?” he teased.

“No. It’s just that I thought you liked only women but then, it was really men that you like,” she answered, a little peeved that she might have been doing this with hi all for nothing.

“You’re quite mistaken. I happen to like both. Why should I limit myself to only one kind, when I could have the other half?”

“You’re rather greedy.”

“Greedy? Maybe. Ah, if it was left up to me, I would have everyone loving each other: Elves, human, dwarves, men, women, Qunari and so on.”

“But you’re an assassin,” she pointed out. 

“It’s true that I am an assassin. It is also true that death comes for us all, and I am only its humble messenger. I try to be quick and painless about it but alas, they always struggle.”

 It boggles the mind why they do. For Zevran is quite the expert in sticking things into people-be it daggers or his own member.

“Are you bothered by this?” he asked her.

“No. I just have a problem with you liking both at the same time.”

“Oh,” he said, watching Amadeus go by with a pang. “Then, if I have to choose, then I’d stay with the one who was most kind to me.”

She smiled. “Then I’ll have to remember that,” she said and walked away.


	100. Chapter 100

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> These are prompts I submitted at the weekly DA writing challenges. Just POVs from some of your companions/NPC.

_This is Flemeth's POV, when Morrigan asked the wardens to kill her._

* * *

 

The hardest part was waiting.

I sat outside my hut, listening, waiting, and looking at the forest far ahead, the shadows lengthening as the sun hastens to its rest. It was alive with the chirps of crickets and the birds calling for sleep, but still I waited. For I knew my waiting has an end, because I knew Morrigan. I taught her, after all.

But still, I waited, as I have waited for ages. I have waited beyond time and memory, for the dream of tears unending, so this one is of no burden; a drop, in the time I can spare.

At last it was silent. I rose from my seat as a figure emerged from the shadows. He was alone, it seems. I sniffed at the air and I perceived that he brought friends with him, hidden from my sight. I smiled. Clever man.

The dwarf started when he saw me, prepared for his arrival, but still he moved forward.

“So you have returned,” I greeted at him. “Lovely Morrigan has finally found someone to dance to her tune. Such enchanting music she plays, wouldn’t you say?”

He looked at me with those deep blue eyes and I saw how he knew Morrigan. His eyes were none of those besotted, as men full of lust often are. They told me that he knew Morrigan far beyond her beauty and her duplicity, the best and the worst of her, and still he understood. And he accepted.

And he came now because of what I had done to her.

“I know your secret.”

I laughed. “Which one, I wonder?” I asked him. No, my dear Warden, I am far beyond one secret alone. “What has Morrigan told you? I wonder what plan has she hatched this time?”

“She told me your secret to immortality. That you take over your daughter’s body when you are nearing death of old age. That is what she believed,” he said.

I nodded. “That she does. But the question is, do you? Ah, but it is an old story that Flemeth has heard before and even told.” I do not wish to tell these stories further, stories feeble minds conjure to to keep their fear at bay. I am past caring what these people thought of me. “Let’s skip right to the ending. Will you do as Morrigan bids, or does the tale take a different end?”

“I want to know the truth.”

“The truth? As if it were nothing?,” I asked, surprised. “How like a man. No, no, it is far better to lie. Far better than blankets and shadows and a mother’s love. Morrigan wishes my grimoire? Take it as a trophy. Tell her I am slain.”

“And you will leave?”

“I go. Perhaps I will surprise Morrigan one day or I may simply watch. It’ll be interesting to see what she does with her freedom. Enlightening, even. Would you give an old woman that?”

He was silent as he contemplated this. “You were never going to leave her alone, weren’t you?” he finally asked, quietly.

“And why would I? She is my child. She will always be on my mind.”

I saw his thoughts pass across his face and I knew that he knew the full extent of Morrigan’s wish. “I’m sorry, but I cannot let you go. But we both know this isn’t the end for you. You’ll come back eventually. I’m just knocking you out temporarily.”

He knew the price of her desire, but still he will pay it. He has chosen to bind his fate to hers, not to bind her to him, but to set her free. And he will do it, gladly and freely.

“As you wish,” I said, turning my back to him and headed to the clearing. I heard him follow and I smiled.

Change is coming to the world. Change that will shake the very foundations of heaven and earth. Change that overtakes anyone, great or small, the weak and the powerful, the wealthy and the needy. Change that will come even to my poor little Morrigan. She will need a shelter, strong and steadfast, to weather the oncoming storm. And she chose him, over me.   

I feel no sorrow or anger over her choice. But still, she is my daughter, and I will see if she has chosen well.

“This is a dance Flemeth knows. Let us see if she remembers it," I murmured and I turned around to face him. “Come, Morrigan will have what she takes. I will have no other way,” I challenged him, gathering the Fade around me and revealing to him my true nature.

I shall have only the best for my daughter. I will have no other.

* * *

_Alistair's POV during the Shriek ambush._

* * *

When the attack happened, Alistair thought it was just another ambush, the kind they have been having lately.

Their attackers were a new sort of darkspawn: slender, tall, with sharp claws and fangs. As he fought them, he realized what they are: blighted elves. He gave the finishing blow to his enemy and turned around to ask the elves what they thought of this.

Then he saw Mahariel.

She was standing, frozen, her bow drawn at the creature in front of her. Why had she not shot it yet? It was rare for her to hesitate, so he moved closer and heard why she froze.

"Lethallin..."

He followed her gaze and saw the same creature, covered in sores and sported the discoloration typical among blighted creatures. But he speaks, and his eyes have some sentience in them, even though it looked nothing more than white and dead.

 She lowered her bow. "Tamlen? Tamlen, is….that you? Praise the creators, Tamlen I-"

"Don't! " Tamlen stepped back from her. "Don't come near me. Stay away!"

"Tamlen, it is alright. It is I, Mahariel. What…what happened to you?"

"Don't..." Tamlen shuddered. "Look at me! I am..." He turned away. "Sick..."

"Sick? Of what? Tamlen tell me, and we may help you. Only tell me what it is you’re afflicted of."

“Mahariel…” Alistair began but she did not look at him. How can she not see what he is?

“No help. No..." Tamlen shook. "Help for me. The song..." He whimpered. "In my head. It..." He shook his head. "Calls to me. He sings to me! I can't stop it!"

Mahariel went still then she turned to the others. "There must be something we can do. We can save him as Duncan has saved me.”

He looked at her sadly. “Mahariel, I’m sorry. I never learned how to make the joining potion and we don’t have a stock of it. It’s better, for him and for us, if we-”

“If we what? There must be something to be done. Not like this. Don’t you see? We must save him. I found him again, after I have given up hope. And I am not going to lose him again.”

"Too far. You cannot help me," Tamlen said.

“It’s true,” Amadeus chimed in. “I’m sorry, but there’s nothing Wynne and I can do for him, except make him comfortable.”

"NO! I refuse to accept this,” she screamed. She turned to Tamlen. “I refuse to accept that you came back to me only to lose you. Lethallin, you must fight this, as I fought it. We can find a way to heal you, if only you hold on-”

“Lethallin, the gods only brought me back to you so I could say farewell,” Tamlen answered. “Please, I beg you, if our friendship meant something. Slay me, quickly. I wish to be free…of this corruption. Set me free. That is the only thing I ask of you now.”

Mahariel hesitated. She knew the truth, but kept pleading for it not to be so. But she could not blind herself any longer and so raised her bow. “Goodbye, Tamlen,” she said, letting go of the arrow.

Tamlen smiled, closing his eyes as the arrow pierced his heart. He fell forward, but Mahariel caught him and he lay on her lap, his eyes on her face. He placed a hand to her cheek, which she held, her tears flowing over them both.

Then the light of his eyes went dark, and her head dropped to his chest while she keened.

Alistair went to her side and comforted her as she wept. He placed a hand on his shoulder, but he could not say anything to lessen her grief. For he himself had a grief on his own.

 _ _So you think you are the first?__ , a voice in his head said to him, a twinge of hurt and anger on his breast. __Fool that you are. You never were first with anyone. You are chosen only when everyone else is taken.__

They had dug a grave for Tamlen and buried him. As Leliana sang a Dalish song for the departed, Alistair thought to ask Mahariel what he really was to her.

“He is a friend of mine, from childhood. I’ve always thought…we’d grown old together. I never thought it would end up like this.”

His grip on her shoulder became cold. He knew enough to know that friend meant something else. And he could not help but feel betrayed that she never trusted him enough with this.

He is always the back-up plan. He knew that now. Always second, never first. Never valued for himself. His worth will always depend on someone else.

Then she sobbed.

Despite himself, he could not help but reach out and comfort her. In that moment, when love overflowed, he forgot about those thoughts. First, second, who cares? Right now, she needed him and he could not sit coldly by when she is suffering.

They say love is selfish. But see, in these moments, they never really knew what love is.

 


	101. Chapter 101

Leliana was willing to let bygones be bygones and would have looked to the future with a hopeful heart. But the past is a bitch, and it came back one day to bite her hard in the ass.

They were walking a narrow trail when arrows came flying.

“Ambush!”

Archers fired at them from high up. Morrigan unleashed a storm over their heads and that stopped the arrows. However, a Qunari came meeting them at the path and swing a greatsword. Neria waved her staff and the Qunari froze in his tracks, long enough for Tabris to break him into pieces. Under cover of the storm, they made their way onto the top of the hill, where they made short work of the archers.

They were about to gut the leader when Lelianna stopped them.”Don’t kill him.”

They looked at her, puzzled. ‘Is there something we should know about him?” Thorin asked.

“He is no common bandit. None of them were. Their weapons and armor are of fine make, and they are well-trained,” she explained. She turned to the man, who looked back at her in acceptance of their defeat beneath his mask. “You know what we’re talking, don’t you? Who are you?”

“Someone who regrets taking you on. I was told this would be an easy job,” the man coughed. “Kill the little red-haired girl. Do the others as you please.”

Everyone turned to Leliana, who was the only red head among them. She went pale upon hearing the man. Thorin interrogated him further as to why Leliana was targeted but the man answered that he never knew more than the target and the price. But he gave them an address in Denerim if they needed to know more. Leliana had enough. “Thank you. Now leave. I never want to see you again.”

After the man had scampered away, Tabris turned to her. “Are you alright?”

“Yes. Its just that-I think this is Marjolaine. It has to be.”

“Why would she want to kill you?”

“Maybe she’s finally found me and wants to finish what she started.”

Tabris looked on as his friends started on the looting. “So what happens now?”

“I need to confront her about this. If we’re in Denerim, I would like to seek her out.”

* * *

The night at camp, Tabris drew the watch. He was sitting before the fire when Leliana came by to talk.

“I want to apologize for the ambush. I didn’t mean to involve all of you into my past, but it seems it will, no matter what I do,” she said ruefully as she sat beside him.

“We don’t mind.At least, I don’t mind. You don’t have to apologize to me. You don’t have anything to apologize to me about,” he answered. “Because…I love you.”

Her eyes welled up and she could not hide her happiness. “I love you too.”

He smiled and leaned forward to kiss her. She leaned to meet him halfway. But just before their lips touched, he suddenly drew back, sat straight and announced, “Warden senses tingling.”

“What?”

He was already looking around, unsheathing his daggers, his ears pricked up. Then he saw her face. “Um, no, this is not what you think. Well, yes, it is but it’s not that, its-”

A shrill shriek pierced the air.

Immediately, Wardens came tumbling out of tents, half-dressed but with weapons in hand. They stood still and listened, looking for the source of the sound. But all was silent so Thorin turned to Tabris.

“This better be not one of your pranks again,” he told the elf.

“It’s not! I didn’t do it! I can’t reach a note that high. Its-”

Claws buried itself in the dwarf’s back. Thorin immediately grabbed it and turned, his ax raised. He came face to face with a blighted being they have never seen before, slight of build and sporting long claws. He buried his ax on its face.

The other wardens were battling the same creatures, which appeared without warning, striking fast with their great claws as they gave those blood-curling shrieks. Amidst the confusion, Thorin called for Morrigan. He should never allowed her to camp so far away from them. He understood that while the witch needed a lot of personal space, it was a security risk, like now.

Mahariel dodged and shot until she turned around and found an old friend.

"Lethallin..."

She froze, her arrow pointed at the creature, looking at Tamlen. No, not the old Tamlen, for this one was covered in sores and sported the discoloration typical among blighted creatures. But his voice is the same, and his eyes looked at her the same way, even though it looked nothing more than white and dead.

 "Tamlen? Tamlen, is….that you? Praise the creators, Tamlen I-"

"Don't! " Tamlen stepped back from her as she lowered her bow. "Don't come near me. Stay away!"

"Tamlen, it is alright. It is I, Mahariel. What…what happened to you?"

"Don't..." Tamlen shuddered. "Look at me! I am..." He turned away. "Sick..."

"Sick? Of what? Tamlen tell me, and we may help you. Only tell me what it is you’re afflicted of."

“Mahariel…” Alistair began but she did not look at him.

“No help. No..." Tamlen shook. "Help for me. The song..." He whimpered. "In my head. It..." He shook his head. "Calls to me. He sings to me! I can't stop it!"

Mahariel went still then she turned to the others. "There must be something we can do. We can save him as Duncan has saved me.”

Alistair just looked at her sadly. “Mahariel, I’m sorry. I never learned how to make the joining potion and we don’t have a stock of it. It’s better, for him and for us, if we-”

“If we what? There must be something to be done. Not like this. Don’t you see? We must save him. I found him again, after I have given up hope. And I am not going to lose him again.”

"Too far. You cannot help me."

“It’s true. I’m sorry, but there’s nothing Wynne and I can do for him, except make him comfortable,” Amadeus said.  

"NO! I refuse to accept this. I refuse to accept that you came back to me only to lose you. Lethallin, you must fight this, as I fought it. We can find a way to heal you, if only you hold on-”

“Please, I beg you, if our friendship meant something. Slay me, quickly. I wish to be free…of this corruption. Set me free. That is the only thing I ask of you now.”

Mahariel hesitated for the moment, then raised her bow.. “Goodbye, Tamlen,” she said, letting go of the arrow.

Tamlen smiled, closing his eyes as the arrow pierced his heart. He fell forward, but Mahariel caught him and he lay on her lap, his eyes on her face. He placed a hand to her cheek, which she held, her tears flowing over them both.

Then the light of his eyes went dark, and her head dropped to his chest while she keened.

The others tood around them in silence, then as minutes went by, Thorin put a hand to her shoulder. “Mahariel, I know it’s painful, but we need to set him at peace. We’ll help you send him back to your gods in the manner that he deserves. Just…say how.”

“We..we bury him..and place a seedling with him..so his death may sustain life, as nature intends.”

Thorin looked at the others and Brosca whispered, “Aye, we know somethin ‘bout that.” So the dwarf  let Alistair comfort her, as they went and dug a grave. They have no shovels with them but they made do with their weapons and shields. Meanwhile, Tabris led the others to find a sapling while Amadeus, Lelianna and Wynne stayed behind to prepare the body.

It was dawn when they finally led Tamlen to rest. They laid the body and the sapling in the grave and started covering both. There was no other sound, save Mahariel’s sobs.

Then Leliana started to sing.

_“hahren na melana sahlin_   
_emma ir abelas_   
_souver'inan isala hamin_   
_vhenan him dor'felas_   
_in uthenera na revas”_

Mahariel watched, mesmerized and comforted, as Leliana sang a song in Elvhen, a song about mortality and death. Her grief became less, now that Tamlen shall go on with Falon’Din with the song of their people to sped him by.

When the last of the soil was thrown, she spoke. “Thank you, all of you..for this. And everything.”

They nodded that they understood, that they would have done this without hesitation.

She sought out Leliana to thank her for her song. “I cannot thank you enough for helping Tamlen to rest. It is a comfort, for him and me, to hear the song of our poeple even when we are sundered from our clan.”

Lelian smiled at her. “You’re welcome. I will be here should you need anything, for we are all friends here, yes?”

Mahariel thought about it and smiled back. Yes, they really were friends, despite their race and despite their past. True friendship transcend boundaries and it was time for her to put aside her grudges and live free, as she had always dreamed.

She thought that even though they were of different kinds, they care for each other as a clan would. It’s strange how a ragtag group ever managed to become one, but this she would not replace for any other.

When she did not answer immediately, Leliana became worried. “Mahariel, are you alright? Do you need anything?”

“No,” she said, wiping the tears in her eyes. Then she looked at her, smiling. “I was named Mirabelas, but perhaps, sorrow is not all I can have. So please, call me Mira.”

Leliana does not know the translation of her name, but she knew enough what her offer meant. She smiled back at her, and said, “I’m glad that you shared this with me, Mira.”

* * *

Zevran had finally gotten Elissa to talk about her past. He watched with fascination as she turned wistful in remembering her family. Her pretty eyes sparkling and her skin glowed as she talked about her and her brother’s misadventures and her parents’ reactions to it. Of course, asking her family was not out of genuine interest, but a habit he usually employs when casing a target. Still, he was mesmerized, as her recollections sounded like it was from another world; a wish, a dream; a world half forgotten in his childhood.

Then her tone changed. “Then Rendon Howe, the Arl of Amaranthine and a family friend, betrayed us. He attacked the castle when most of our soldiers and my brother had gone on to Ostagar. I was only able to get away because of Duncan and because my parents stayed behind.”

“Did you find your brother at Ostagar?”

She shook her head. “No. Thorin said they never heard of him at Redcliffe and Lothering either. He must have been lost at the Wilds. Only Ser Barker returned to me from the castle.”

He immediately offered his sympathies. “It must be very hard for you to lose your parents so suddenly. Do you intend to avenge them later?”

She drew back and looked at him sharply. “My parents aren’t dead. They have gotten away; I’m sure of it. They had been in these situations often during the occupation and I’m sure they’re hiding somewhere. I just had to be as they taught me and hold on, and we’ll be reunited again.”

He was confused. “But I heard from Arl Howe himself that he had personally seen your parents’ deaths. He bragged how your father asked for mercy and to spare your mother but she-”

She stood up, her eyes flashing, her brow drawn back in anger. His goddess, of the soft brow and kind eyes,  has suddenly turned malevolent. “My parents aren’t dead,” she declared, “and I never forgot who you are.”

He drew back a little from her, a little afraid of what she had become.

“You think I won’t remember why you’re here?” she hissed. “You were sent to kill us. But since you failed, you’re maybe still working on finishing your contract!”

“I was not-”

“Is this why you’re still here? To spit poison in our ears, repeating the lies your master spreads about, making us doubt ourselves so you can finish us all later?”

“You’re quite mistaken-”

“Because you can stop now. No one’s believing your lies and if you think you can break us down so you can deliver us to your master, you’re dead wrong.”

“Alright! I must have misheard,” he said, in a placating tone. “Arl Howe is a lying bastard, is he not? I admit, I was so easily taken in by his bragging I did not doubt him. When I first saw him, the arl never impressed me as a fighter. At least someone who can defeat two of Ferelden's heroes. Ah, you are right as usual; your parents would have escaped from his clutches and he was only bragging to cover his failure. As for me, I shall have to be more discerning next time.”

She still looked suspicious at him so he did his best to soothe her feelings. It will not do to lose her support just now.  

Finally, she walked away, her trust in him better but not wholly restored, while he was left to think about what just happened.

He was untangling the mess of it all, when soft treads approached him from behind.

Woof, Ser Barker greeted. The dog looked at him, then at his mistress, then back at him and barked. Zevran told him about what Elissa had said, and what she believed. At once, the dog sat on his haunches and stared sadly at the night sky.

"It seems we'll never know about the truth. From what I heard, no one has survived apart from your mistress."

The dog barked that he had been there until the very end. Zevran was surprised and asked him the truth. “Was she right? Have the Teyrn and Teyrna survived, as she said?” 

Ser Barker tucked his ears down, followed by his head.

Zevran looked at the dog, then at the sky. He felt sorry for him and for his masters. But most especially, for his lady, trapped in a delusion of her own making.

But then, what business of this is his anyway?


	102. Chapter 102

Wynne stirred the sacred ashes into the potion. She looked at the sleeping arl’s face, and judging by his pallor, they arrived just in time. She looked at Bann Teagan to assist her, and together, they raised the arl high enough from the bed so she can tip the potion into his mouth. They laid him back down when they finished, and Wynne passed a glowing hand over him to speed up the healing.  

It worked. The arl coughed and opened his eyes. "Where-where am I?" he asked, looking at his brother with recognition and lucidity.

Bann Teagan smiled. “Be calm, brother. You have been deathly ill for a long time. Do you remember nothing?”

“Teagan? What are you doing here?” Eamon asked in confusion, not anger. “Where is Isolde?”

The arlessa moved forward and fell on her knees beside his bed. “I am here, my husband,” she wept.

“And where’s Connor? Our boy?”

“He is alive unlike so many others.” She reached a hand and cupped his cheek. “There is much to tell you, husband.”

“Then..it was not a dream?”

Teagan shifted his feet. “Much has happened since you fell ill, Brother. Some of it will not be easy to hear,” he said.

“Then tell me. I wish to hear all of it.”

And so they were allowed into the room when the bann finished telling his brother about the recent events. The arl was now capable of sitting, and he did so now as he bowed his head in contemplation.

Finally, he raised his head to them. "This is most troubling,” he said. “There is much to be done. But first, I have to express my gratitude to those who had done so much. Grey wardens, I thank you. You’ve not only saved my life but kept my family safe as well.”

“Thank you, Arl, but don’t thank us yet. We are still not out of danger, Thorin said.

“I know. Still, I am in our debt. Will you permit me a reward for your service?”

“Your help against the Blight is all we ask.”

“I know, but still I think your reward should be of personal use to you.”

Thorin bowed. “As you wish, sire.”

Arl Eamon looked at them all. “I declare you champions of Redcliffe. You and your companions have the friendship of Redcliffe and always welcome within these halls." To thorin, he said, "And to you, Warden, I give you a shield that is given to our greatest knights.”

Thorin moved forward and accepted it. “Thak you, Your Grace. I shall bear this shield with honor.”

Bann Teagan moved forward. “We now need to speak about Loghain. But first we need to decide the fate of his agent, the one who caused all this.”

Gregoire and his templars entered and brought Jowan forward. Bann Teagan explained his crimes to the Arl and when he finished, turned to him. “Jowan of Kinloch Hold, you are called to give your defense. What say you of all this?”

Jowan hung his head. “It…it was all true. I am guilty of everything you have said.” He raised his eyes at Neria. “I don’t deserve mercy, but if you spared me, I swear I’ll make it up to all of you. I’ll do anything you ask.”

Neria tugged at Thorin’s sleeve. He looked at her and reluctantly nodded. “If I may ask, Your Grace, I wish to ask of you a boon. The life of this man, for your life and that of your family.”

When he heard this, Arl Eamon looked at the mage with nothing but distaste. How can he deserve mercy when he has caused so much destruction as he passed?When he was the cause of this all: the despair of his son, the foolishness of his wife, and the deaths of his people? Not to mention that his son is revealed to the world as a mage, to his great shame and his bloodline is tainted forever. No one will dare to associate with him now that he was shown to have failed in his duties, and no family will consider marrying into his, now that they can see that their blood is spoiled. His house has ended and this mage is to blame.

"That I cannot do. He is a maleficar and by my conscience, I cannot unleash him on a land already wrecked by chaos. I am sorry, but I cannot release him.”

As Neria protested and wept, Thorin thought that it was never a good plan. Despite his intentions, Jowan had proven himself to have a weak mind, with poor judgement, no sound principles and flimsy regard for others. Time and again he had failed, and having a power as great as blood magic, this would only spell disaster. If he had come along with them, would he have spewed demons on them if so much as something frightened him? Or will he not finish what he started?

He already had another assassin to watch out for. He cannot watch another, particularly one who can control minds.

He is a liability that they cannot afford to have.  

Redcliffe has shown what happens when great power comes with great stupidity, which is what Jowan is, despite his intentions.

He turned to the weeping girl. He put his hands on her shoulders and willed her to look at him. “Neria…he can’t come with us. He is too dangerous. You have to let him go,” he said kindly.

Her mouth trembled. “But…he’s my friend.”

Thorin looked sadly at the girl, the scared little child who had the misfortune to befriend someone who never really cared for her. “You are..you are a great friend to him. But he…he was not a friend to you.”

* * *

Tabris returned to their room with a heavy heart. Brosca was waiting for him, and as they prepared for bed, he asked about Neria.

“Sad. Crying and thrashing the room. I had to leave her to Elissa to calm her down,” he answered. Neria allowed them to take Jowan back to Kinloch for judgement, but it did not mean that she took it well. She ran from the hall as soon as he was gone, weeping and screaming, and refused to be comforted.

Brosca nodded. “Canna do something about that. That wimp friend of hers was always gonna be bad news.”

Tabris did not answer, for despite the blood magic, he felt sad for Jowan. It wa extremely sad to be born with so much bad luck, with all his efforts only making things worse. He thought Jowan felt genuine remorse at what he had done, and his offer of atonement might have been genuine too, had they allowed it.

Then Alistair popped in and asked if they had a broom about, for he spilled something in his room.  

Brosca shrugged. “Ask the boss. He’s gotta broom the witch rides on.”

“Ew! That’s-I’m not going to get that out my mind now,” Alistair said, grimacing.

“Aha! Tryin new positions with the elf, eh? Ye wouldna know otherwise.”

“What-no, we’re not talking about this.”

“So, what’d she do, eh? Did she like it? Did she moan like-”

“LALALA I’m not listening! I’m not listening!” the templar said, putting his fingers in his ears.

“Ah, come on. How would ye know if yer doin it right? Remember the rose?”

“That was one time. Now, I’m very sure I know what I’m doing.”

“Really?”

“Really! Now stop putting doubts in my head!”

* * *

The next day, they met at the hall to discuss their next step.

“At last, back to the matter of the Landsmeet. It will take some time to call my forces and organize our allies,” Arl Eamon said. He was already standing unassisted, his back straight. 

“Loghain needs to be brought to justice for what he had done at Ostagar,” Alistair said, his eyes hard, which rarely happened.

Arl Eamon nodded at him. “Of course, Alistair. But we will not call the Landsmeet only to deprive Ferelden of its leader during the worst crisis it has ever faced without showing an alternative. If Loghain must be brought down, then the heir of Calenhad must step forward,” he said, with a significant look at him.

Alistair sputtered as they all turned to him. “Me? But…”

Thorin turned to the arl in confusion. “What does Alistair had to do with defeating Loghain?”

“He has a claim to the throne greater than Loghain and his daughter. For he is the son of King Maric and the brother to Cailan.”

Alistair turned red when they stared at him. The red became deeper when Elissa whispered to Thorin about his parentage and why it was hidden from all of them until today.

“You could have told us, Your Majesty,” Tabris said to him, leaning back. "We’re all ears here-well at least for me. Elves, you know,” he added, pointing to his ears.

Thorin was done hearing about him but he turned to the arl. “So you intend to put him forth as king?”

“There is no better way. Teagan and I have a claim through marriage of our sister to King Maric, but we would be seen as opportunists. His claim is by blood and stronger even than Queen Anora.”

Alistair butted in. “And what about me? Does anyone care what I want?” he asked, sulking and irritated.

“You have a responsibility now, Alistair. Without you, Loghain wins. I would have to support him for the sake of Ferelden. Is that what you want?”

Alistair frowned. “I..but I…no, my lord.”

The arl looked at him until he was sufficiently cowed and continued. "There is one way to proceed. I will call the Landsmeet and gather the nobility. There, Ferelden can decide who should rule one way or another. But I cannot proceed without your help,” he said to Thorin.

Before he could answer, the place rang with the frantic sounds of the bell. Immediately, they heard running outside and a guard burst into the room.

“Pardon me, Your Grace, but the darkspawn-the darkspawn are here!”

They stood only for a moment and sprang into activity.

“Is the Archdemon here?” Thorin asked the guard as they ran to the balcony. The guard shook his head. “No sighting of it as yet. But a large body of darkspawn are heading towards here.”

They reached the balcony and looked out. Outside the walls, the darkspawn are massing behind the gates, trying to break through.

“Have the people been evacuated?” Teagan asked the guard.

“They are moved inside the castle sir and the gates had been barred shut. Ser Perth is leading the defenders.”

“Then we must help him.” Thorin looked at his companions and they nodded.

They headed into the courtyard to join the defenders. Even though the darkspawn could not break through the gate, the archers on the walls have a difficult time thinning the horde. Even when one falls, they kept coming and it seems there is no end in sight.

Thorin shouted orders. “Wynne, Morrigan and Neria, you three need to thin them out. Go and we’ll cover-”

A boulder smashed into the walls, flattening the archers atop it and flinging the others into the courtyard below. A second one smashed into the gate, the gate flying open, and rolled towards them, sending them running into cover. It stopped just before the great door and they all turned to look where it came from.

A giant hand reached in from the broken gate, followed by its body with great thudding steps. The ogre stepped into the courtyard and stood tall. It roared and darkspawn pooled at its feet, shrieking and roaring. 

Thorin raised his ax high. “People of Redcliffe, defend your homes!” he shouted and led the charge.

The battle was joined. The warriors held the line while Wynne and Morrigan casted their spells at the ogre to distract it so Neria can summon the storm. At last, she was finished and the storm broke over the horde. They shrieked in pain and died where they stood, frozen and broken by lighting and frost. The ogre batted at the wind and the rain and then stumbled as a bolt passed through it. Morrigan cast her hex at it, increasing its pain, while their archers peppered it with arrows.

And yet, despite that, the horde kept coming. They kept coming until they broke the line and the defenders were pressed hard into the door.

“Neria! We need another one,” he shouted, swinging his sword and decapitating a genlock.

“I don’t have enough mana!” she shouted back, beating her staff at a hurlocks’ legs.

“We need it! Now!”

She swept the hurlock off its feet, and looked at him. Then she looked forward, and casted her spell.

He was about to bury his axe on a spawn's head when an unnatural feeling crept over him. His strength failed, his legs stumbled, and he dropped forward. He lay there as he fell, unable to move, slipping out of consciousness, as his life was drained out of him. The last thing he saw was an explosion of blood, splashing the walls red until it went dark.


	103. Chapter 103

Later, he woke up to people shouting at each other. He tried to sit up, but everything went woozy, as if his blood had been drained out of him.

“Lie still. You must not much too much,” said the soothing voice of Wynne beside him.

“What happened?” he asked weakly.

Her face darkened. “Blood magic.”

He looked past her and saw they were shouting at Neria, with Tabris the most vocal of them. The girl glared and raged back, a match to them all.

Still clammy, his hands shook as he took the potion Wynne gave him. He drank, but he might as well have not, for the weakness still stayed despite it.

 He looked around the courtyard. It seems the battle was over and they had survived. The horde was gone, their only sign of ever being present were the lakes of dark blood pooling around them and the splashes on the walls. And the fear and terror in the Redcliffe guards, as they looked at the little elf girl.

He waited when they had enough of shouting and called Neria to him.

* * *

Neria knelt beside the dwarf. Wynne frowned at her when she arrived and left asked to leave them. The dwarf nodded and she left them.

He really was in a bad way. She never really saw his as pale and shaking like this before. And it’s all her fault.  

She dreaded the conversation. She liked Thorin, he was fair and he never called her anything when he was angry with her.

 _ _Elf. Stupid. Idiot. Dimwit. Madhat. Booby. Nutcase. Fiend. Demon. Crazy.__  

She expected him to say one of those things, like those templars and other children do when they talk to her. That it was always one of those things and not her name.

__Magic must serve man and never rule over him._ _

It was bad enough that this was always repeated every sermon, but then everyone would look around and stare at her as those words were being spoken.

It’s not like those stares can change who she is. She tried, she really tried to be good, but she can’t make a glyph or heal a wound without setting it on fire. Then Gregoire or other templar would shout at her and call her a menace and put her in solitary. And Irving would stand by and do nothing. Though he did say something about not doing this again in that weak voice of his and say that he and she were not very different and she can do better. She didn’t believe him, because she knew he will always kiss up to those templar asses.  

She remembered when-

“You alright?”

Neria looked at Thorin with a jerk. “Of course I’m alright. Why are you even asking?”

Thorin nodded at her thighs, where her hands were bunched up. “Your pants’ on fire.”

She looked down and realized her hands had ignited her trousers. She patted  the flames down quickly, then when everything was just smoke, she said “Yes, I do that” she said, morose.

He laughed. She was about to blow up, when yes, it was very funny. Pants on fire. She laughed along with him.

Then he asked her about the blood magic, what she can do, what she can’t do. That was easy. She just had to scroll through the demon’s memories as if it was hers and she can answer without bumbling.

Finally it was done.

“That’s it I suppose. Warn me next time when you do something really painful,” was all he said about it.

She stared at him. “That’s it?”

He looked at her in confusion. “Why? It’s not enough for you?”

“No….shouting?”

“Why would I do that? You seem to know what you’re doing.”

She stared some more. “Really?” It had always bitten her in the ass, when she trusted that they said that’s the end of it. And then when she least expect it, she’d be doused in cold water, or her food’s been spit on, or there’s frog guts on her pillow.

“Really. Now go.”

She hesitated. “But I..I hurt you.”

“I did ask you to save us, didn’t I?”

Well, he did.

“Well, now that I know what to expect, I think I won’t be so surprised next time. Although, from the way you all woke me up, I think you will have to talk about this to the others. Some of them won’t like it,” he said, nodding at the others.

She stood and with a puzzled look at him. “I will,” she said, feeling a certain happiness she had never felt before.

* * *

“You should’nt even be here,” Tabris said to Neria. They were in the common room after dinner, when everyone else had been patched up and walking.  

“What? You are asking me this now?” the girl asked him with resentment.

“Well, yes because I trusted you before that you know what you’re doing!” he shouted across the room.

“Really? Or what you want me to do?”

“That’s not what I meant. Look, you’re so-”

“What? Young? If I’m old enough to be harrowed, I’m old enough to fight.”

“Your harrowing was just a day ago when Duncan recruited you.” Amadeus chimed in.

“So what? I’m still harrowed, aren’t I? And those idiots at the tower thought I’m old enough to be Tranquil!”

Mahariel joined the conversation. “What is this Harrowing?”

“It’s where they let you fight demons and stuff and if you don’t win or you took too long, they cut off your head.”

“So, this..ritual, is when they send you to confront an enemy?”

“Uh? Yeah?”

She turned to Tabris. “I do not see why she could not fight with us. She has passed her initiation, regardless of her age.”

“Of course you would say that. You live in the woods!”  
“And you live among humans, bereft of your own culture. I only have pity for you, that you do not seem to have any rites of passage of your own.”

“Well, we do. We get married,” Tabris said, through gritted teeth.

“But you aren’t married. So out of all of us, you shouldn’t be here,” Neria said to him.

Tabris threw up his hands. “I’m done talking to you.” He buried his head on his hands.  “Oh Maker, all along, I was helping maleficars and abominations.”

“What a profound insight. And also, you’re the finest ingrate I have ever met,” Amadeus said, in a surprising support to Neria, the one he had been fighting a lot.

He whipped around to face him. “And you’re okay with this? Her using bloodmagic?”

The mage shrugged. “Whatever is necessary.”

“She sacrificed a child!”

“It would have needed a child sacrificed, either way.”

“The point is, she shouldn’t even be making these deals.”

“She should’nt even be fighting. But see, we can’t stop this Blight without getting blood or shit in our hands. We can’t all wish to hide behind cloister walls and hope the Blight goes away.”

“There are other ways to fight.”

“Like what? Scaring the darkspawn away with words of righteousness?”

“She can turn them to ice statues!”

“And still, you see, it’s not enough. You can cut them into ribbons, and it’s not enough. You need me to help you so you can cut them into more ribbons!”

“Those who have used the Maker’s gifts-”

“Foul and corrupt are they. Yes we heard that, we’ve been drilled with that, far often than you, whether we like it or not. But see, those same fools singing that have turned their own gifts to oppress people!”

‘They were not oppressing, they were protecting everyone, from abominations and demons!” Tabris shouted, standing up.

“Well, idiot, it doesn’t need a mage to become an abomination!” Amadues stood as well as he shouted. “Or a spirit or a demon to make an abomination out of anyone! Why do I deserve such hate, if I use my powers for good?”

“You don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“I do know what I’m talking about. It’s you who doesn’t know what he’s talking about. There are mages who can grow old without having to succumb to possession, yet mundanes like you can’t even control such simple things as lust or envy, without a demon goading them!”

“Mages are more vulnerable to demonic possession!”

“Idiots like you are vulnerable to a kick in the face, but you can avoid that if you know how to duck! Face it. You and your people don’t want us to learn to avoid getting possessed, to be responsible for our magic, just so you can spout the same bullishit you’ve been spouting for a millenia. Making yourselves feel powerful by demeaning other people. This is not about being right, it’s about being in __control__.”

Thorin intervened before the argument escalated to bloodletting, the main event and also the best part about any quarrels. Spoilsport.

He yelled at them that whatever their personal feelings about magic, they have to accept that their beliefs will always be on the opposite sides. They will just have to let alone each other’s beliefs, then he sent them off to cool their heads.

 Neria looked at Amadeus as he paced around one side of the room. “Uhm..Thank you?”

Amadeus just glared at her.

“What? You don’t like me then? Then why? Why defend me?”

“So idiots like him,” he said as he pointed at Tabris across the room, “wouldn’t think all mages are as stupid as you. Dammit, Neria! Why did you accept the deal? You should have known by now it’s bad to accept help from demons, because the demon always wins.”

“Well, she’s not getting me. She promised she wouldn’t if I let her go.”

He looked at her in shock. “What?”

“She said she’s going to go away for a while but she’ll come back when Connor’s older. So I made her teach me stuff and made her go away, like everyone wants.They shouldn’t be so mad about it,” she said, pouting.

Amadeus stared at her in silence, speechless with the knowledge that it is possible to learn blood magic without sacrificing oneself. You just have to have small scruples in sacrificing others.

Meanwhile, Thorin was over at Tabris side. “She’s what she is,” the elf hissed at him. “Why did you let her come with us? Or is this a dwarf thing?”

“No. Back then, it was dangerous to leave her somewhere with Loghain hunting for us. But when we did found somewhere safe for her, she had proven too necessary to leave behind.” Thorin paused before continuing. “Ask yourself. How many times would you have died if Neria wasn’t there?”

Too many times. “That’s not the point. I’m asking if you’re okay, using her like this, when you know what she is?”

“Oh yes. I’ve spent sleepless nights about that. As I had with all of you. But It’s done” he said,  then with a firm voice, he added, “Learn to live with it, Tabris. If we’re too picky with our allies, we’ll never get anywhere.”

“Oh sure, I’m living with it.” Tabris moved farther away from Neria. “This is how I live with it”

Neria watched him, with tears gathering in her eyes, but he remained unmoved.

* * *

Elissa had taken Amadeus out for some errand, along with Neria and Sten, but everyone knew she took them out far away from Tabris. Whe they returned, Amadeus’ mood did not improve, but Sten’s did. It was probably due to the shiny new sword he had on because he treated Elissa much more respectfully than before.

When the mage returned to his seat still sulking and Wynne made no move to offer him advice, Morrigan knew then that things were off between them. Since Haven, there was a general bad feeling between them, and it persisted even now, as they sat at the opposite sides of the room. So she went by Amadeus to mock him of his ill-fated infatuation. He replied that he had never been taken with Wynne, he thought it was just fun to pretend to be one. The witch understood it immediately, and laughed aloud. Wynne heard it, heard who they were talking about and she gave them a dark look. But nothing she can say can make them heed her.

Tabris, who was still smarting about his recent spat with Amadeus, heard it too and, concerned for Wynne, approached her together with Leliana and Elissa.

“Do you want us to teach them a lesson?” he offered to her.

“Thank you, young man, but I doubt anything we do can change their minds,” she answered. “It seems they are too hardened by villainy to be more considerate to others.”

“But someone should stop them,” he said in irritation.

“In time, and not by our hands. Only the Maker can help them now,” she assured them. Then she stared off out the window as she thought in silence, with a forlorn expression. Before they could offer to comfort her, she spoke. “Tell me, do you see me as a glory-seeker?”

“What? Where have you heard that? Is that what Amadeus said to you?” Tabris asked. When she did not answer, he knew. “You shouldn’t believe everything he says. You know better than anyone that he’s always twisting things to suit himself.”

“Yes, I know. Still, I cannot help but wonder, if my actions up to now are all because I want to achieve glory, as he says.”

Tabris looked at his companions who looked just as confused as he is.

“It is out of our control how we are percieved by others. That I was seen to be seeking glory surprised me, because I never considered it. And now that I know, I have thought about it since.” She continued staring off out the window, where below an old man is being led by a child, who seems to be pointing at the birds flying across the sky. She smiled at their enjoyment of these halcyon days, days that will soon be over, and turned to face them. “As mages, we are not permitted to continue living with our family, for our own as well as their safety. At the Circle, we are not permitted to start our own, because mages are always born, despite us. Still, we have the same desires as anyone; we also wish to be happy, to love and be loved…..and to be remembered. We are remembered by our actions to others, and I hoped to do it by doing good. But maybe I was rapacious in my desire to be remembered. It is ironic, how I’ve always thought that my actions of selflessness was based on selfishness,” she said, with a slight smile. “If so, forgive me; it was unknowingly done.”

“No, you don’t have to apologize. We never thought of you that way,” Leliana said and Elissa nodded.

“If you are, you’re still better than some people. We’re lucky to have you, Wynne,” Tabris added.

She smiled at them all, warmed by their affection. “There is still something new to learn, even for an old woman like me,” she said and chuckled. “It is comforting to know that when death finally comes for me, I will go with no more doubts.”

* * *

Thorin joined Morrigan at the balcony before they set off for Denerim. She was looking at the people milling below, her arms crossed and sensed when he came near. “The end of your journey begins. Soon, you will face the Archdemon and then we will have to part company,” she said. “I have no desire to see it so soon. Not unless you wish it.”

“You are welcome here as long as you wish, Morrigan,” he said.

She turned to face him. “Then tell me, before it comes to it, what did you wish of me? What did you want that you have me wondering after all this time.   

He was staring ahead, and he looked about to be flippant again, but changed his mind. He turned to face her and said seriously, “I want to you to be happy.”

She stared at him for a long moment then started laughing. She laughed for the sheer ridiculousness of it. “Is that it? For all the time you left me guessing, all you want from me is to be __happy__?”

He did not answer, only frowning at her a little.

“You think I am not happy? What makes you think I am not?” she asked with a hint of mockery in it.

“You are? Then it seems my wish came true then,” he answered lightly. “So let’s not think more about it.”

But she could not. She could not let it go, not when she had spent countless nights thinking what he wanted from her, only to find out it was such a trivial thing as this. It was the most ridiculous thing she has ever heard. What use is happiness in matters of survival? Only the fittest survive in this world, not the most happy. Happiness is for fools. And yet he wasted an advantage on a wish like this.

And yet, she was fascinated. Like anything new, she thought about it with wonder, as it filled her with exhiliration that she cannot explain. It brought out of her feelings she never knew before: joy, astonishment, exaltation-and fear.

“That is a fool notion you have. You best rid it quickly,” she said shakily. This new thing he presents; it makes her wonder. It makes her feel that she has discovered a new world, one she never thought possible and now she cannot look at this world the same way. The world seems wrong, upended, because she now had to consider the possibility that her beliefs, her deep-rooted beliefs, may turn out to be false. And it frightens her. Wonder turned to doubt, then doubt turned to fear.

“I have much better to give you.” She held out a ring and instinctinvely, he held his palm out, where she dropped it.

He looked at the ring in his hand and then looked up at her in confusion. “You give me a ring? Is this some sort of human custom?”

“Were it so, I would not follow such a thing,” she said. “It is my gift to you as thanks for your efforts on my behalf. Flemeth gave it to me because it allowed me to track to find me no matter where I went. No, don’t be afraid of it,” she said quickly when he looks about to throw it away in panic. “I disabled its power when we left the Wilds. Recently, I thought to change it. Now I will be able to find whoever wears it instead.”

He raised a brow at her, asking her silently if she really was intending to do the same thing to him as her mother did to her. But she misinterpreted it and she said quickly “Tis not given out of sentimentality! I believe you were too important to risk. If you were captured, this ring would allow us to find you quickly.”

If anyone’s planning on capturing him, they better have a damn bronto to carry him. But he brushed aside the ridiculousness of him getting captured for the sake of knowing more about this shady thing in his hand. “Find me? How?”

 “Flemeth used to say that it works through a link between the giver and the holder, one that I presume it works both ways. It would mean I am linked to you, as much as you to I.”

“What kind of link?”

“ I am not sure.”

“So if it works both ways, I could use it to find you?”

“I..do not know. As I have said, I never tested it. Perhaps.”

He still looks hesitant at it so she became annoyed. “Do you wish to ring or not? I am simply tempted to keep it.”

“Then I accept it. Thank you for the gift,” he answered.

“You are welcome. Perhaps it will be useful one day.”

Despite his misgivings, he put it on. Immediately, her true feelings were revealed to him, as his were to her. He looked at her in surprise as she did the same, and they understood, and smiled.

No words are needed to describe it; how they feel were left unsaid.

And they are content.

* * *

They met at the hall one last time before they left Redcliffe for Denerim.

“With the losses we have suffered because of the attack, we need the support of all Ferelden, now more than any other,” Arl Eamon said.

Thorin nodded. “We’ve already sent word to the allies we have gathered. They should arrive here for the final battle.”

“Teagan will recieve them,” he said and looked over at his brother, who nodded. “Now, we must go to Denerim. Be ready in an hour.”

When they filed away to prepare, Irving sought out Neria and placed a hand on the mage’s shoulder. “Child, even if we had differences in opinions, remember..that I cared.”

Neria looked at him, then swatted the hand away and sneered. “If caring meant siccing those templars on me, I don’t need it.”


	104. Chapter 104

They arrived at Denerim as part of Arl Eamon’s retinue. As soon as they have rested, the arl and Thorin went to the palace to arrange the Landsmeet. However, it took so long that those who remained decided to go out to relive their boredom at being holed up in the estate.

By impulse, Neria tried to go but remembered what happened at Redcliffe. She was saddened that Tabris still hadn’t forgiven her, but Brosca announced he’s staying. He told her to go and ransack the arl’s estate of its valuables together, which made her very happy.

As sson as they were out, Tabris announced they’re off to finish Leliana’s business and asked if anyone wanted to join. Alistair declined, saying that he had some business of his own and Mahariel said that she would join him. They waved goodbye at the two then Tabris looked at the address on the paper. “Alright, let’s ask someone who knows where this is.” He looked up and he sighted one of the city guards standing near the market. “Hey! I know that guy. He played tag with me when I was a kid.” Tabris approached the man and halloed.

Upon seeing the elf, the guard scowled. “Well, well, if it itsn’t you. I knew you’d be back here sooner or later.”

“That’s cold, Sarge,” Tabris answered. “Don’t you miss me? You used to chase me all over the city.”

“Miss you? Ha. You seem to have the wrong idea about us.” He stood up straighter and said, “You know, I was real sorry for you when you were a kid, because you just lost your mamma. So I wasn’t too hard on you when you end up in the dungeons figuring that you’ll get your life back together.”

“I know but-”

“But you keep going back to bad people! Even if I keep helping you to get off my streets!”

“Yes, I’m sorry but-”

“And now you killed our king! And here you are with these people tearing this country apart instead of letting the regent to save us all!”

“Let me explain-”

“Then you came back to mess up my streets again! What did I do to deserve this, huh? I spent years trying to get you-”

“Do you mind?” Tabris said, annoyed now. “I’m trying to repent here.”

“Oh, excuuuuuuse me for getting in the way of your character development.”

“We need your help, ser,” Elissa interrupted as the two glared daggers at each other.

“You here to report another crime? If your life’s blood isn’t running in the gutter as we speak then don’t bother. The new arl’s given me criminals for guards. Some of them were even the miscreants we have tried to arrest.”

“We’re here to report some people who sent assassins after us. They were said to live here.” Elissa gave the address of Marjolaine. The guard gave directions to the house’s location. “Sorry but I can’t lead you there. I’m busy since I can’t trust even my own men to do patrols on the market.”

“Oh, I’m sorry for you. Do you need help?”

The guard looked about to tear up. “What? You’re serious? Yes, Yes. I could use some help.”

“Don’t you have people?” Tabris asked, still surly.

“Hah. Those ones were bastards, fit for nothing. Noble’s kids sent to be out of the way but pampered. But even they’re gone, ever since Arl Howe came to rule Denerim,” Sergeant Kylon said, with a glare at Tabris. "With the bastards, I just have to worry about dicing, the odd bit of drool, or yelling at them too loudly and hurting their poor feelings. But everything’s changed now with the new arl and the men he sent."

“That must be tough for you, Sergeant,” Elissa commiserated.

“Thank you miss,” he answered and moved on. "I want them taken care of. Beat down, not kill. Let me make that really clear. Not on fire, or exploded, or Maker knows whatever type of grisly death you can dream up. ...Sorry, used to giving orders to my boys. Just leave them breathing, and I'll be happy."

“Thanks for the help, Sarge,” Tabris said.

“Whatever. Just get out of my face,” the guard answered and turned away, hiding a small smile.

* * *

They were heading to the market place when Alistair told them to stop. Mahariel looked back and saw him beside a house, with a sign written with the prices charged for pieces of clothing laundered.

Mahariel hurried over to him to ask what was wrong.

"You know..." Alistair looked at the house uncertainly. "Maybe this isn't the best time to be thinking about this, but I've something to ask you. Seeing as we're in Denerim now, I’m wondering if we might be able to...look someone up."

"Of course. Is it a friend of yours?”

"I'm not talking about a friend, exactly. And..." He caught her raised eyebrow, and shook his head. "No, it's not that sort of friend, either. The thing is, I have a sister. A half-sister. I told you about my mother, right? She was a servant at Redcliffe Castle, and she and she had a daughter..." He waved a hand. "Only I never knew about her." He sighed. "I don't think she knew about me, either. They kept my birth a secret, after all. But after I became a Grey Warden I did some checking and... well, I found out she's still alive. Here, in Denerim."

"That is wonderful.”

"She's the only real family I have left, the only family not also mixed up in the whole royal thing. I've just been thinking that... " He ran his fingers through his hair anxiously. "Maybe it's time I went to see her," He said, and shifted hesitantly. "With the Blight coming and everything, I don't know if I'll ever get another chance to see her. Maybe I can help her, warn her about the danger, I don't know."

"If that is what you wish then so be it."

"Could we? I'd appreciate that. If something happened to her and I never went to at least see her, I don't know if I could forgive myself. Her name is Goldanna and I think this is her house." He took a deep breath. "Well, it's worth a look."

"Let's go."

"Now?" He said, with his eyes wide.

"Why not?" She looked at his stricken expression. "Oh. Forgive me. I did not  think you would wish to meet her on your own."

"No! I didn’t mean that….I meant…Do I seem a little nervous?” When she nodded, he said “I am. I really don't know what to expect. I'd like you to be there with me, if you're willing. Or we could..." He shook his head. "Leave, I suppose. We really don't have time to pay a visit, do we? Maybeweshouldgo."

"We are already here. We might as well see if she's home."

"Oh, Alright. But will she even know who I am? Does she even know I exist? My sister. That sounds very strange..." He tried the word out. "'Sister.' 'Siiiissster.' Hmmm..." He sighed. "Now I'm babbling. Maybe we should go. Let's go. Let's just..go.”

She thought they should knock so before he could stop her, she went and opened the door. Alistair had no choice but to step after her.

No one was around. The place was small and cramped, but clean. "Err... hello?" Alistair called out behind her.

Form a room somewhere, a woman in worn clothing emerged, her blonde hair limp and unwashed and her face looking tired. "You have linens to wash? I charge three bits on the bundle, you won't find better. And don't trust what that Natalia woman tells you either, she's foreign and she'll rob you blind," she said gruffly.

"I'm..." Alistair looked at Mahariel and she gave him an encouraging nod. "Not here to have any wash done. My name's Alistair. I'm..." He took a deep breath. "Well, this may sound sort of strange, but are you Goldanna? If so, I suppose I'm your brother."

"My what?” she asked, shocked. The shock passed and she looked at them with suspicion.  “I am Goldanna, yes. How do you know my name? What kind of tomfoolery are you folk up to?" she demanded.

"It seems she does not know about having a brother. Are you sure you heard correctly?" Mahariel asked Alistair.

"Yes, I..." He frowned. "I think so. I'm sure of it, in fact." He turned back to the woman. "Look, our mother... " He tried to make her understand in gestures but iftfailed and he gave up.. "She worked as a servant in Redcliffe Castle a long time ago, before she died. Do you know about that? She-"

"You! I knew it! They told me you was dead! They told me the babe was dead along with mother, but I knew they was lying!" she accused him.

"They told you I was dead? Who? Who told you that?"

"Them's at the castle! I told them the babe was the king's, and they said he was dead. Gave me a coin to shut my mouth and sent me on my way! I knew it!"

"I'm sorry, I..." Alistair swallowed. "Didn't know that. The babe didn't die. I'm him; I'm... your brother."

If he expected welcome from her, he was wrong. Goldanna only scoffed. "For all the good it does me! You killed Mother, you did, and I've had to scrape by all this time? That coin didn't last long, and when I went back they ran me off!"

"It was not his fault your mother died,” Mahariel said.

"And who in the Maker's name are you?” she sneered at her. “ Some tart, following after his riches, I expect?"

"Hey! Don't speak to her that way!” Alistair interrupted. He looked at her with worry and was relieved she only looked puzzled being called a tart. “She's my friend, and a Grey Warden! Just like me!"

"Ooohhh, I see." Goldanna gave a mocking laugh. "A prince and a Grey Warden, too. Well, who am I to think poorly of someone so high and mighty compared to me?" She made a shooing gesture. "I don't know you, boy. Your royal father forced himself on my mother and took her away from me, and what do I got to show for it? Nothing. They tricked me good! I should have told everyone! I got five mouths to feed, and unless you can help with that, I got less than no use for you."

"I..." Alistair sighed. "I'm sorry, I..." He shook his head. "I don't know what to say..."

Mahariel thought it best to intervene so she said, "Goldanna, Alistair came here hoping to find his family."

"Well..." Goldanna waved dismissively. "So he's found it. I'm his sister. But what are you to me, boy, except the one who took my mother away, hmm?"

Alistair look at her with shock. "You think I wished her dead? I never wanted that. I didn't have the life you think I did, Goldanna," he replied.

"I suppose not. A bastard is still a bastard, isn't he? But brother or no, I've got five mouths to feed and no time to spare until they are."

"Then let me promise you this, Goldanna: I'll do whatever I can, speak to whomever I can, to ensure you and your children are taken care of."

She only smirked at him for his trouble. "Mmm. That sounds all well and fine, but you'll have to forgive me if I don't exactly hold my breath."

"You have my promise. I can't give you more than that. I..." He turned to Mahariel."Let's go. I want to go. Goodbye, Sister,” he said, without looking back.

When they were outside, Mahariel let him think in silence as he wished. Finally he lifted his head and called her. "Well that was...not what I expected to put it lightly,” he said, trying to keep up a cheerful air. “I'll live up to my promise, I suppose, but..." he ran a hand through his hair. "This is the family I've been wondering about all my life? I can't believe it. I..." He looked back at the house. "I guess I was expecting her to accept me without question. Isn't that what family is supposed to do? I..I feel like a complete idiot."

 “Some people will only use you for their own ends, with no regard to your well-being or happiness. It is a painful thing to know, but I am glad you are not decieved any longer,” Mahariel said.

“Yes, I suppose you’re right,” he answered, but still frowning.

“So you must move on to people who genuinely care for you.”

"Such as? The only person who ever cared about me was Duncan. And he's gone."

“You have friends. And you have me.”

“"I..." He smiled at her. "I thank you. I'm glad you came with me. Let's just go. I don't want to talk about this anymore.”

* * *

Leliana went to the door of a plain little house and opened it. Inside was a beautiful dark-haired woman, dressed in fine clothes unlike Ferelden women they met. Several armed men stood about the room. The woman smiled and opened her arms in welcome. "Leliana! So lovely to see you again, my dear-"

"Spare me the pleasantries,” Leliana said coldly.  “I know you're--"

"Oh, you must excuse the shabby accommodations,” Marjolaine said airily, waving a hand as if they were paying a social call and caught her home looking less than the best. “I try to be a good host, but you see what I have to work with?" she wrinkled her nose. "This country smells like wet dog. Everywhere. I cannot get the smell out. Even now it is my hair, my clothes...ugh."

“Now that’s just rude,” Tabris whispered. In a louder voice, he asked "Why did you send assassins after Leliana?"

Marjolaine pretended to be shocked. "So business-like, your companion."

"You framed me, had me caught and tortured. I thought that in Ferelden, I would be free of you, but it seems I am not," Lelianna said. "What happened to make you hate me so? Why do you want me dead so badly?"

"Dead? Nonsense. I know you, my Leliana. I know what you are capable of. Four, five men...you can dispatch easily." She folded her arms. "They were sent to give you cause to come to me. And see? Here you are."

"Well, you could have just sent a letter. I’m sure we would have found a way to send you her reply. We’re both civilised people, aren’t we?" Tabris commented.

"Ignore what she says. She is lying. I know how she works,” Lelianna said to him before turning to her former mentor. "What are you up to, Marjolaine? Why are you in Ferelden?"

"In truth? You have knowledge that you can use against me. For my own safety, I cannot let you be. Did you think I did not know where you were? Did you think I would not watch my Leliana?" she mocked. "'What is she up to?' I thought. 'The quiet life, the peasant cloths, hair ragged and messy like a boy...this is not her. You were planning something, I told myself. So I watched ...but no letters were sent. No messages. You barely spoke to anyone. Clever, Leliana, very clever. You almost had me fooled. But then you left the Chantry, so suddenly. What conclusion should I draw? You tell me."

Lelianna was flabbergasted. "You think I left because of you? You think I still have some plan for...for revenge? You are insane. Paranoid!"

“You’re late at the news, but Lelianna’s kinda busy right now with the Blight. I don’t think she gives a thought about you at all," Tabris added.

"Oh, is that what you think?" Marjolaine asked him. "If I were you, I would believe nothing she says. Not a one. She will use you. You look at her and you see a simple girl -- a friend, trusting and warm. It is an act."

"I am not you, Marjolaine. I left because I didn't want to become you,” Lelianna said hotly.

Marjolaine only smirked at her. She moved closer. "Oh, but you are me. You cannot escape it. No one will understand you the way I do, because we are one and the same," she purred. "Do you know why you were a master manipulator, Leliana? It is because you enjoyed the game; you reveled in the power it gave you. You cannot change or deny this."

"You know what? You’re just crazy. Me, I trust Leliana, 100 percent,” Tabris said.

"Thank you,” Lelianna said to him before turning again to Marjolaine. "You will not threaten me or my friends again, Marjolaine. I want you out of my life, forever. Leave Ferelden. Go back to Orlais and never return. What you do is no longer my concern."

Marjolaine looked at her long and decided it is best not to confront her this time. "I see. I will go, for now. But you carry a dangerous secret of mine, Leliana. It is not over," she warned. "Not for us.” She called for her minions and they trooped out the house. When they were finally alone, Tabris asked the bard. “Uh, are you sure about letting her go? You know she just threatened to come back for you later.”

“Let her. She is not important to me anymore," Leliana answered, sheathing her blade. "If she does come back, I will be ready for her.”

Tabris smiled at the generosity of spirit that could forgive even the greatest transgressions. “Well, since she’s making an effort to visit, why don’t we extend an invitation for Satinalia dinner? I’m sure she’ll make our table very festive with her…er…lively presence.”

She laughed and thought she could always count on him to make even the life’s greatest tragedies bearable.


	105. Chapter 105

The sun was still hanging lazily in the sky, but Mahariel felt it was not the time to go on exploring the city.

If the trip to see Goldanna had gone well, she would have immediately pestered Alistair for a tour. It was the first time she was in a shemlen city, and full of shemlens as it is, she could not help but feel awed. The market in the middle of the square was very lively, for instance. There were swarthy men juggling swords while people threw coins into bowls. Birds and beasts from all corners of Thedas were shown in cages. Bolts of cloths of every color imaginable hung from every booth, while women in brightly colored silks cinched at the waist with embroidered sashes haggled with the sellers. And food, sometimes hawked by her kind, stretched from one end to another. Food, that her clan could only dream of.

But she decided they go home. Perhaps the arl can help Alistair.

He had been very quiet beside her as they walked back to the estate. She was beginning to worry, for the prolonged silence was so uncharacteristic of him. He would have made a glib remark by now. He always does.

But not today. And she does not know what to do. It’s not like she can offer an experience like his, for her adoptive mother and her clan had been very supportive. She grew up surrounded by love, no matter how impoverished they were that being rejected by your own blood was something she could not fathom. And it made her feel helpless.

They entered the courtyard and was about to enter, when Alistair spoke up. “I’ve been thinking,” he said. “You told me I needed to look out for myself more than I do. I’m….beginning to think you were right. I need to stop letting everyone else make decisions for me. I need to make a stand and think about myself, for a change, or I’m never going to be happy.”

Mahariel smiled, glad that everything she had been trying to tell him finally went through. It was sad what happened with Goldanna’s, but if it took that to make him see the truth, then she felt no regrets. She smiled, went forward, tiptoed and kissed his cheek. “It is about time.”

He smiled then embraced her. “Then from this point on, I’ll be looking out for myself more. I should have done this a long time ago.” He leaned back to look at her, cupping her face in his hands. “I just wanted to thank you. Being with you is the one bright spot out of everything that has happened.”

“And I say the same.” She pulled herself closer. “I have never thought I would find happiness with a human, and yet, here we are. I am glad, that I have met you.”

She did not think that him finally making his own decisions would not apply to her, for she was confident that their desires will always be the same. How could they not? She was in love.

* * *

After taking care of Marjolaine, the other group went to the Pearl to get information about one of Sergeant Kylon’s targets. As soon as they entered, a gang rushed at a dark-skinned woman near the bar. They immediately jumped in to help but it seems they were not needed, as the woman trounced them so effortlessly they were left standing and admiring at her skill. When the last man went limping and wincing out the tavern, she walked to the bar and took a mug right underneath a patron, who was staring at her slack-jawed as the rest of them. Zevran grinned and walked towards her.

The woman knocked back a pint then she noticed them. "And look who’s here. Did you come to apologize for leaving me without the husband and then vanishing without even a kiss?" she greeted at Zevran.

"Ah, Isabela. It is always good to see you,” he purred. “You know it was just business. Business that turned out well for you, I see - you inherited the ship, I take it?"

"You got that right." She shrugged as she picked something off her ample chest, her auburn locks with the dark roots flowing lustrously off her shoulders. "I never did like the greasy bastard. But the Siren treats me far better than she ever did him. And all her men too," she added with a wicked grin.

Tabris spoke up before the two completely forgot they were there. "You two know each other?"

Zevran nodded. “My apologies. This is Isabela, queen of the eastern seas and the sharpest blade in Llomerryn.” He turned to the dusky woman, who was eyeing his companions with relish. “And Isabela, my dear, you will no doubt be amused to discover that I am traveling with Grey Wardens.”

Isabela rolled over to face them, accentuating every curve she has. And there were plenty. "Grey Wardens? Charmed," she said, her smile bright with genuine feeling and the sparkle of her jewelry around her neck, ears, and wrists.

"Are you a captain of a ship?" Elissa asked.

"Oh, yes,” she said, breathily, as if she had received a revelation from the Maker himself. “The Siren's Call - my pride and joy. She's seen me from my own Rivain and the isle of Llomerryn to the coast of Par Vollen. All I need is my ship, and the wind at my back. And once my men have had their fill of the pleasures of dry land, we will be off again. For more, of course. We are getting as far away from this stupid Blight as possible."

“We’re looking for someone,” Tabris said.

“Is it someone of such incredible assets? I think you don’t need to find any longer,” she said, liking what she saw. They were the most attractive people she has ever seen in this Maker-forsaken place. The trip here was not entirely worthless, it seems. The women were pretty and the men were fit. She couldn’t decide who she’s going to go first: the blond or the redhead. But, well, since when did anyone tell Captain Isabella to choose when she could have both?

 Zevran chuckled. “My dear Isabela, I’m sorry to disappoint you but it is a different person entirely.” She huffed at this. Then he told her they were looking for Cristof, the head of the White Falcons who was seen in her company one time.

 “Ooh, that sounds familiar. Give me a minute to remember,” she said, placing a hand on her forehead dramatically. “Oh, I can’t remember, she said after a moment. “Maybe…a game of cards will help?”

“I have to warn you, she is a wicked card player,” Zevran cautioned them.

She pouted at him. “You’re no gentleman, giving away a lady’s secrets,”

“My dear Isabella, if every woman such as you is a lady, the Pearl would be a veritable court.”

“Alright, then, one game,” Tabris said as the others whispered if he was sure. He assured them that he can do it. They pooled their money as he negotiated a bet and then they were off. They were seated across each other and after a few minutes, it seems Isabella had won.

“Better luck next time, sweetness,” Isabella said happily as she went to scoop up her winnings while the others groaned. But Tabris reached out and held her hand.

“Oh, I’d rather have your sweetness, my lady. Because you see, you have such a lovely hand,” he said as he turned her hand over and they all saw a card hidden underneath her bracelets.

She smiled at him. “Your hands aren’t bad, either.”

“Cards aren’t the only things my hands are skilled at,” he said. He meant he also can cook, play the lute, pick locks, make bombs and so on but it was not what she heard. “How about sailing?” she asked, her smile becoming wicked.

“Sailing?”

“Mmm, I’ve got a big ship just sitting on the docks. I could show you around if you want,” she said, leaning over, her big breasts resting on the table, bumping up against her shirt and making Tabris’ face feel hot. “I want to see you steer my ship….swab my deck…hoist my anchor….”

Tabris swallowed as he tried not to stare down.

“-It’ll be fun, riding the waves, rocking back and forth, then we reach the crest and salt sprays over us both.”

Lelianna did not like this at all. “We are finished, yes? He has won the game,” she said with a little edge to her voice, “and he is taken. Now, let go of his hand and tell us where is the man we are looking for.”

“Ooh, feisty,” Isabella said, letting go of his hand. “But, of course, women like you are only plucky outside the bedroom. Inside, you are as limp as a long caught fish. Your poor man must be suffering so very much to be putting up with you for so long,” she said, with a pitying look at Tabris.

Leliana went red as he hair with embarrassment and anger. “ It’s not your business what we do in bed, but I’ll have you know he never complained about my skills.”

“Ah, you poor girl. Of course he’ll say that. To spare your feelings.”

Leliana blinked rapidly, her mouth open, her outrage too big to express intelligibly. “I can’t even-”

Isabella turned to Tabris. “So will you come see my ship? I’ll show you around my cabin and tell you what you want to know. In moans, if you like.”

Lelianna looked from Isabella to Tabris and said “Fine. You say I’m limp like a fish? I’ll prove you wrong. Show me your room.”

Isabella smiled and put her hand under her chin, lifting it slightly. “There. That wasn’t so hard, was it, sweetness?”

“I…” Lelianna looked uncertainly at Tabris.

“Oh, don’t mind me. I’m just gonna sit here while someone propositions my girlfriend.”

“But you must come, of course. After all, who’s going to decide who’s better between the two of us?” Isabella said.

He considered this then said. “Alright, I’m in.”

She chuckled and said “Good lad” to him and turned to the Antivan. “And what about you, Zev? Shall we, for old times' sake?"

"Oh, Isabela, you and your ridiculous appetite..." Zevran grinned. "Perhaps another time. Right now, I am quite preoccupied with a pair of beautiful dark eyes," he said, feeling Elissa’s eyes boring on his back.

Isabella chuckled and told the two where her ship is. Zevran thought the elf might need help with these two energetic females so he went to the rescue. “This is your first time, yes? There’s probably something you need to know first about these things to avoid…er…injury. But we’re out of time so take this. Isabella will know what to do with them,” he said, producing vials of oil from his belt pouch.

Tabris was amazed. “You’re always carrying those around with you?”

“You never know when an opportunity like this appears. Better be safe than sore-y,” he said then continued rummaging in his pouch. He held up little dried-up roots. “Might I offer you some roots from Antiva, for strength? And for volume, you can try arching your-”

“Accepting herbs from an assassin? Are you out of your mind?” said Amadeus, who had, up until now, been silent. He turned to the Antivan with a thunderous yet silent expression. “And stop offering quack remedies. I know that this is one way to murder your victims if you’re not using your blades.”

“I’m hurt. Whatever do you mean?”

“That herb you’re offering. You do know that doing a vigorous activity while ingesting a high amount of it can stop the heart?”

“Mmmm, killing them in the midst of their passion? In bed? I have never tried that before. That is a rather intriguing idea, my friend. Perhaps I should try that for my next target. My thanks.”

“Stop calling me that. I’m not your friend,” Amadeus said a bit uneasily, as he realized he just offered a bloodless way to kill somebody.

“I’m missing something here, right?” Tabris asked as he looked at the two of them.

“Ah yes, my apologies,” Zevran said, turning back to him. “Sadly I cannot help you, my poor herbs, as he says, cannot be trusted. Perhaps he can offer you some…legal remedies or a spell?”

That only made the mage angrier. “Magic is not for trifling amusement,” he said coldly and stormed out the tavern.

* * *

At last, they finally had finished the sergeant’s jobs. They trooped back to the market, weary but contented. At least, they’ve done something to make the poor guard’s day. However, before they reached it, they found their way was blocked.

"And so here are the mighty Grey Wardens at long last. The Crows send their greetings, once again." A dark haired man greeted them atop a staircase. Behind him stood several thugs, with hard faces and sporting grins.

They stole a glance at Zevran as he sighed. "So they sent you, Taliesen? Or did you volunteer for the job?" he asked the man.

"I volunteered, of course. When I heard that the great Zevran had gone rogue, I simply had to see it for myself," the man named Taliesen answered.

"Is that so? Well here I am, in the flesh," Zevran said, spreading his hands.

"You can return with me, Zevran. I know why you did this, and I don't blame you,” Taliesen cajoled. “It's not too late. Come back and we'll make up a story. Anyone can make a mistake."

Elissa spoke up. “Zevran is not obligated to return to you. He’s over the kind of life that you’re offering. He’s not one of your Crows any longer.”

Taliesen tutted at her. "You don't even know who you're talking about, do you? I have known Zevran longer than you; he is my partner and let me tell you, the Zevran you know was a lie."

"It wasn’t, Taliesen," Zevran said. "I'm sorry, my old friend. But the answer is no. I'm not coming back... and you should have stayed in Antiva."

Taliesen looked at them all and smirked. “We’ll see about that,” he said, drawing his weapons while his minions followed suit.

Zevran sheathed his daggers and looked at the body of his former friend. "And there it is. Taliesen is dead, and I am free of the Crows," he said when Elissa approached. They both watched as Tabris started looting the bodies while Leliana stood guard.

“Will more Crows come after you?” she asked him.

He shook his head. "They will assume that I am dead along with Taliesen. So long as I do not make my presence known to them, they will not seek me out."

"So what will you do now?"

"I do not know." Zevran looked at the body, still thoughtful. "It seems I have options now, whereas once I had none." He turned to look at Elissa. "I suppose it would be possible for me to leave, now, if I wished. I could go far away, somewhere where the Crows would never find me."

He detected a little disappointment in her eyes. "I think, however, that I could also stay here. I made an oath to help you, after all. And saving the world seems a worthy task to see through to the end, yes?"

 "If you want to go, you should go. I’ll explain to Thorin if you wish,” Elissa offered.

  "But that is what I am asking you. Do you want me to go? Do you need me here?"

 She lowered her eyes. "No, I don’t want you to go. But I wouldn’t want you to stay against your will. To stay or to go, that is your choice. I will not hold it against you if you decided to go.”

 "I... am not sure how to respond to that. Nobody has ever... I mean, normally these things are decided by others." He looked uncertain for a moment, but smoothened his features then said "Err... then I suppose I shall... stay? Is that... good?"

She smiled at him. “I’m happy that you are. I think the others would be, too.”

"Here..." Zevran held out his hand. "It seems an appropriate moment to give you this.” He reached out to hold her hand and put something in her palm.

She looked down upon an earring in her hand. "This is pretty, but…you must have some reason to give this to me?"

 "Apart from it being as pretty as you?” He chuckled. “I acquired it on my very first job for the Crows. A Rivaini merchant prince, and he was wearing a single, jeweled earring when I killed him. In fact, that's about all he was wearing. I thought it was beautiful and took it to mark the occasion. I've kept it since..." he trailed off, unwilling to remember those memories. "And I'd like you to have it."

"It's so beautiful. Thank you, Zevran."

"Don't get the wrong idea about it. You killed Taliesen. As far as the Crows are concerned, I died with him. That means I'm free, at least for now." He shrugged. "Feel free to sell it, or wear it or whatever you'd like. It's really the least I could give you in return."

She looked at the earring and knew its importance. This was no ordinary gift; he would not have given it up so simply even though he told her not to get the wrong idea. "So is this my reward for helping you?" she asked, with a little teasing tone. This was past their game now, and she needed to know where they now stood.

"If that is what you prefer to believe," he said with a little coldness. She now saw that he was not as cavalier as he used to be."Tell me, do you want it or not?" he asked irritably. "If it displeases you, then return it to me."

She closed her palm; the earring hidden from sight. "I'll keep it."

 


	106. Chapter 106

“Denerim is the heart and soul of Ferelden. It was the city of King Calenhad and the birthplace of Andraste. As stubborn as a mabari and as good to have on your side,” Arl Eamon said. He was standing with his hands behind his back as they sat arrayed around him in the common room back at the estate. “If we defeat Loghain here, the rest of the nation will follow us.”

“So I guess your trip was a success?” Alistair asked.

Arl Eamon nodded. “Enough nobles have doubts about Loghain’s story. Even so, they could not ignore an attempted assassination of a noble by one of their own so lightly. Thus, I have amassed enough influence to call the Landsmeet. It will take in a week’s time as we wait for the other nobles to arrive.”

“In the meantime, we have to be prepared,” Thorin added. “Loghain will strike back at us and we will not be caught by his schemes. We’ll need to get more support if we hope to win the Landsmeet.” He looked around to Elissa and leveled his gaze at her. “We need you, Elissa. Your family is connected to most of the nobles here, am I right?”

Her eyes dropped a little, to her hands laid demurely on her lap, showing no sign that she wished they gripped the armrest of her chair. She wondered if the Teyrns and arls her family had known, their sons who swore undying love for her and their daughters undying friendship, would help them now. Or abandon her now at their greatest need, just like Howe. She raised her head at him and nodded. “I’ll see if we can talk to them.”

They heard clanking outside and turned to look at the door. A guard entered into the room and walked to the arl. “Excuse me sir, there’s an elven woman outside. She claims to be Anora’s maid and wants to speak with you. She says it’s urgent,” he said.

The arl looked at them briefly, a bit surprised, then nodded at the guard. “Show her in.”

The guard nodded and went away. He came back with the maid in tow. She took a step back, startled at seeing them so many than she expected. But she recovered her composure and told the arl that the Queen sent her to ask for their help. She tried to gain their sympathy, telling them that Anora loved her husband and trusted her father after Cailan’s death. Their coming brought forth dark rumors about her father and Howe. She doubted them, especially Howe, and suspected him of corrupting her father. She went to confront him at his estate but Howe locked her away, calling her traitor. The Queen sent her to tell them that Howe planned to kill her and put the blame on Arl Eamon.

“So an elf maid escapes to bring a message to the Arl?” Amadeus asked, dubious. He leaned back on his chair, frowning.

“You never know. You humans never thought elves are capable of infiltrating or escaping,” Tabris shrugged.

The mage ignored him and turned to the others. “Are we supposed to believe this? That the Queen was entrapped by her father’s friend?”

“I don’t doubt that Howe would betray his friends,” Elissa quipped.

“So why not ask for her father to rescue her? Why us?” he persisted.

“Does it matter? We have the opportunity to convince her to join our side, not to Loghain,” Tabris said, growing irritated at his nitpicking.

“So do we save her or not?” Thorin asked them.

Morrigan crossed her arms. “Did she expect that a man like Howe would be cowed by mere words such as hers? I say leave her there for being so foolish,” she said.

“No! You can’t leave her there. What do you think Howe will do to her?” Elissa cried out to Morrigan, horrified at the thought of anyone, least of all the Queen, falling in Howe’s hands.

“What she deserved.”

Elissa stopped trying to talk to the witch and turned to Thorin. “We have to save her. We can’t leave her to Howe. Besides, we need her support at the Landsmeet and the best way to gain it is to save her from the arl.”

“Ooh, a damsel in distress. So we play the knights in shining armor” Tabris said excitedly as he leaned forward.

“More like knights in nicked armor,” Brosca said, taking a swig of water.

“You’re just grumpy because that’s not ale.”

“And yer lucky if that lady don’t start runnin after she sees ye,”

“Ha. Saves me the trouble of carrying her.”

Thorin put a stop to the banter. “Enough talk. Who’s going? We need smaller number of people. Who knows the place?”

“I did. I went there once. It didn’t end well for the owners” Tabris said with a little grin.

“This is the place where you killed an arl’s son?”

“Yeah, that’s right.”

“Alright, you go.”

“Oh yeah. First an Arl’s son then an arl. I’m definitely moving up in the world.” Tabris said as Elissa gave him nervous looks.

“Don’t ye go aimin for a prince. It’ll go badly for ye. Choose a soddin king,” Brosca said as he winked at Alistair.

“Right. I’m just going to sit over there and pretend not to know what you’re planning,” Alistair said, catching the meaning.

“Not as dumb as I thought. This will be fun,” Tabris said.

“Hey!”

“I said, enough talk,” Thorin interrupted.  “How are you going to get in?” he asked the elf.

“There’s a servant entrance at the back of the estate. We can get in by dressing as servants or guards. I think Howe will be keeping the Queen on the dungeons. That’s after the main hall. Ask the maid where exactly she was being kept,” Tabris replied.

“Guards. You’ll go in as guards. Humans and dwarves aren’t usually hired as servants and we don’t have that many elves to choose from,” Elissa said.

“We do have four of them,” Tabris said, his head nodding as he counted the elven heads.

“Mahariel can’t come, her bows will be less effective at close quarters. Neria can’t go, she is too small to fit in either disguise.” Neria pouted at her.

“And I suppose Howe does not have dwarves as guard too?” Thorin asked Elissa.

“Yes. So you and Brosca can’t go.”

“I dunno about ye, but I figure me and the boss coulda fit in one, on top a shoulder.”

“Maybe, but it won’t disguise the waddling,” Amadeus said acidly.

“Dwarves donna waddle!”

“Enough! So me, Brosca and Oghren can’t go. Who else can’t go?”

“Sten. He’s too tall. Wynne, because obviously. Lelianna’s accent will give her away,” Elissa said.

“I could be silent,” said the bard.

Brosca rolled his eyes. “Aye. Trusta woman not to gab.”

“I have learned to be silent as I contemplated the Chant in the cloister.”

“And if they ask ye for the password?”

She went silent. Then she made a stabbing motion.

“Well, I think you’re wrong, Brosca,” Tabris said and chuckled.

“So that leaves Tabris, Lelianna, Alistair, Amadeus and Zevran,” Thorin decided. Amadeus frowned but said nothing. Something about this seemed wrong to him but he can’t back out. They don’t know what Howe might have done to the Queen and they might need a healer with them. 

“Alistair goes,” Elissa suggested as Alistair asked “What? Why?”

“You do know that Howe wants him dead badly?” Amadeus asked her.

“Yes, well, if we’re going to get the queen’s favor, who better than him as her rescuer? She’ll be more attached to our cause if the contender himself came to save her.” 

“That won’t matter if he got killed. And if Howe saw him, he’ll definitely get killed,” Amadeus answered her. Alistair narrowed his eyes at Amadeus and muttered, “I feel very cheered right now by your confidence in me.”

“Well, we’re not showing him to Howe. That’s the use of the disguise, right? We’ll just show him to the Queen. And we’re not going to let ourselves get killed.” Elissa said.

Thorin considered their arguments. “We’re not risking Alistair.”

“Not this again,” Alistair said as he leaned forward. “I’m tired of being asked to stay back because of who my father is. I’m sick of hiding behind my past. I know you all think I’m dumb, but I’m going to rescue the Queen so don’ try to stop me.”

The others gaped at him. Thorin quirked an eyebrow at him, then Tabris and Brosca clapped him on the back. As he blushed and stammered his thanks, Thorin considered Alistair. He was too important to risk, but if the infiltration went wrong, they would need a warrior to hold the line or punch their way out. Unfortunately, the ex-templar is the only one available.

“Alright. Tabris, Amadeus, Alistair, Lelianna and Zevran, go and get what you need,” Thorin relented, then ended the conference.

They rose  to prepare when Elissa turned to Thorin. “Please, let me come with them.”

Thorin looked at her and thought that it is a very bad idea. The queen’s safety is too important to risk over a vendetta with Howe.

“Please let me come with them. I need answers, Thorin. Maybe I might never see my brother again. But I can meet Howe. I need to ask him why he did it.  Why he betrayed my family. Please, this is my only chance, to know and to be at peace.”

“You’ll have your chance with Howe later, Elissa. But this is a rescue mission, not a chance get revenge.”

“I know. The mission comes first before others. I promise you, I won’t let it  endanger the queen or the others.”

Thorin looked at her for a long moment. “You’ll replace Zevran,” he said finally.

“What? Why could we not come together?” Zevran asked.

“You’re too many now,” Thorin said and turned away before they had a chance to change his mind further.

Zevran turned to her when the dwarf was gone. “Are you sure about this?”

“I’m sure. After all, you taught me.”

Zevran smiled. “Hm. I’m very fortunate to have a pupil so quick to learn as you.”

“I just might surpass you so don’t rest on your laurels.”

“I prefer resting on your lap.”

“And that’s how I’ll surpass you. Because you keep on sleeping.”

They would have flirted all night had she not had an old family friend to meet.

* * *

They were armored as guards and were walking towards the Howe estate when they heard clanking behind them. They turned around and found Amadeus walking with an odd gait.

“I didn’t know you were bowlegged,” Tabris said to the mage, smiling.

“Shut up.” The armor was a bit heavy for him and his legs were used to moving freely, not with cloth sticking with them at every step.

“Oh, great. Our covers’ blown before we even reached the estate,” Alistair groaned.

“I said shut up. I’ll walk straight when we get there.”

They were met by Erlina, who guided them towards the back of the estate and told them to wait as she distracted the guards by screaming that she saw darkspawn by the side of the fountain. As if darkpawn needed to drink.

When they were gone, Erlina went back to them and said not to draw attention to themselves and they must hurry to save the Queen, who was imprisoned in the guest room at the main hall. They were not recognized and was soon at the Queen’s door.

“Thank the Maker!” said the muffled voice within. “I would greet you properly but I’m afraid we have a setback.”

“Wait. How do we know you’re the Queen?” Amadeus asked.

“Shall I try to shove my crown under the door? Do you think we royals have a secret knock?” said the voice, exasperated at his question.

“She has a point there,” Tabris said, chuckling.

“I was just checking. The person inside might not be the Queen.”

“She’s the Queen. I can recognize that bossy voice anywhere,” murmured Elissa, earning a glare from Erlina.

“Anyway, what setback were you talking about, Your Majesty?” Tabris asked.

The Queen told them that Howe hired a mage to put a spell on the door in addition to locking it and setting guards about the place.

“Howe’s very thorough, I’ll give him that” Tabris commented.

“We must get her out of here!” Erlina said, wringing her hands.

“Find the mage who cast the spell. He’ll be most likely at Howe’s side,” advised the Queen.

The others looked at Elissa. “Well it seems you two were really fated to meet,” said Tabris.

* * *

They were going to the dungeons and saw a guard before the cells. They were debating how to deal with him when an arm shot out from the cells, grabbed his neck, and twisted it. A snap, and the body fell, which the arm had taken from it a key and unlocked the cell. As the door swung open, they saw a tall, pale-skinned, dark-haired man, grubby with many days imprisonment, standing before them. He was unconcerned for his safety, even when they had weapons drawn.

“STOP RIGHT THERE, CRIMINAL SCUM!” Tabris said in his best guard impersonation, pointing his sword at the man.

The stranger only quirked an eyebrow at them, not very impressed. He continued divesting the body of its armor and weapons.

Tabris looked uncertainly at his companions and they looked back. So he tried again. "STHAAAAAP-"

 "I heard you the first time," the stranger said without turning to them, pulling the pants over his leg. 

"Then why don't you do as I ask then?" Tabris said, pointing his sword at what he was doing.

The stranger stood up and face them, now wearing pants. "Because I am not a criminal I am a Grey Warden like you. Do you not sense that?"

The three looked at him still confused but Alistair said "Yes, he's right. He's a Grey warden. Can't you sense it?"

Tabris eyes opened wide as soon as he felt it too. "Oooh, is that the fuzzy feeling I'm getting?" he asked.

"You mean to say  _warm_  and fuzzy feeling," Alistair said.

"No, just fuzzy. If it's warm and fuzzy, it means I've got diarrhea."

"If the floor would swallow you two up for not paying attention, that would be great," Amadeus scolded them. The two were abashed enough and so tried not to crack jokes after that. 

“I thank you for creating such a distraction, stranger. I have been waiting weeks for this opportunity. You never hear music in the sound of the key turning in a lock until you’ve been imprisoned,” The stranger said, fully clothed now by the time that they stopped being distracted. “I am Riordan, Senior Grey Warden of Jader. And you must be Duncan’s recruits. I am pleased to finally meet your acquaintance. I would like to talk further, but not here.” He asked them about why they were here. They told him about rescuing the Queen and asked for his help. He politely declined, saying it was still a policy of the Grey Wardens to not interfere in state affairs and if they were, he want no part of it. He had enough of it with the stint in Howe’s dungeons. Besides, the guards will recognize him. He must get out of the estate as best as he can.

They protested, saying he will give them away if he escaped. The man pointed out it would be an opportunity for them if he drew the guards’ attention to himself as he escaped. They relented, and told him to meet with the others in the Arl of Redcliffe’s estate.

* * *

Their cover was blown at the dungeons. Howe made a wise choice on his men as they were not easily fooled with just a guard uniform. They fought through rooms and rooms of Howe’s men, clearing them out like a rat’s nest.

“Ugh, what sick, sick people” Tabris said, as he looked at one room filled with every torture device imaginable. He looked at the contraption hanging at the ceiling, decorated with chains and wicked-looking spikes. "This is really old.”

“It is,”Lelianna said. Tabris stopped looking at it to look at the bard.

At the rack, they found a naked man with hands and ankles shackled, his skin bearing wounds. Some of it where long and gashed and some of it were round and had black edges.

“Was this supposed to be a lesson? Did my father think it funny to leave me for so long before sending you?” said the victim groggily as they unshackled him from the table. He winced, sitting up, his hand soothing his other wrist, as Amadeus cast his spell.

“Are you alright?” Tabris said, as he handed clothes to him, clothes he had ripped out of the dead men.

“ _Alright_? You taunt me with such a question?” the man said, testing his arms. “Who are you?” he asked, looking at them. His eyes widened when he recognized Elissa. “Elissa? Elissa Cousland? Is that you?”

Elissa looked at him and recognized him as the son of the arl of Dragon's Peak. Their reunion was cut short with Amadeus reminding them of their mission again. The noble thanked them and promised them the gratitude of Dragon’s Peak bannorn, promising that his father will be informed of Howe’s depravity. They told him to wait for them at the  landing above them, as he would need help for them to escape.

They fought through some more of Howe’s men where they came near the prisons. There they found a templar and an elf in the cells.

“Darry?” said the elf, looking at Tabris.

“Darry?” said his companions, also looking at him.

“Darrian. Darry’s my nickname. Tabris is my last name,” Tabris explained.

Amadeus looked at him with confusion and annoyance. “Then why are we calling you Tabris for?” 

“I thought it sounded cooler,” he replied, sheepish.

The imprisoned elf, pressed his face against the bars. “Cousin! It’s me, Soris!”

“Yeah, I can see that. Hold on, we’re getting you out of there,” Tabris said, as he plucked the keys out of the prison warden’s body. Soris sprang free and hugged him. “Why are you here?” Tabris asked.

The elf explained that he was thrown here by the guards as his accomplice in Vaughan’s murder. He was left here when the management changed, as Howe found him an excellent victim for his toys. Tabris told him to go wait for them same as the others, vowing revenge on the noble.

The templar was crazy, experiencing lyrium withdrawal. In his crazed mutterings, they found he was assigned to hunt Jowan down after his escape at the tower. He and his fellow templars cornered the bloodmage, but Loghain intercepted them and he was thrown here. He was sane only long enough to plead with them to his ring to Bann Alfstanna, his sister. They thought it best to leave him where he is, as his condition would make their escape even more risky.

They fought more guards after that. After they finished, there was one man who man survived, clutching at his wound futilely as he lay in a pool of his own blood. He looked up at Leliana with eyes of recognition. “So, you came back,” he said to her. 

The others were surprised and looked at her. “Lelianna, what is he talking about?”

“I don’t know. I’ve never met him before.”

The guard only laughed, despite his wounds. “Yeah, you wouldn’t remember me. Because you buried your blades and thought I was dead when you and that other Orlesian bard came here to plant evidence to stir up trouble between Orlais and Ferelden.”

“What? Lelianna, what is he talking about?” Tabris said as Lelianna went pale.

“Tabris, I told you, I regret what I had done in my past. Whatever it was, it is not important anymore because I-”

Tabris held up a hand and asked “What did you do?”

The guard laughed with malice at her. “Oh, you didn’t tell him what you were doing, hey? But I remember. I remember what you did.” The guard told him that last time she was here, a team of Orlesian provocateurs had planned to incite a war between their countries by planting a scroll with Orlesian military seals with a prominent Fereldan noble.

The guard choked blood when he finished and Amadeus made a move to heal. However, he waved him away. “Damn you. Damn you all to the Void” he said. He slumped to the ground, his eyes stared into nothing.

They stared at the corpse. He was truly dead, so they moved on to the next room.

Leliana tried to catch-up to the elf, who was staring straight ahead. “Tabris, I-”

“Stop, Lelianna. We’ll…we’ll talk about this later,” he said, never looking back. 

* * *

“Well look here. Bryce Cousland’s little spitfire, all grown up and still playing the man. I never thought you’d be fool enough to turn up here,” Howe said as they entered the last room, his squinty eyes on Elissa. It seems they have interrupted him in the middle of his hobby, shared by a few of his favorites.

“Not a fool. Just powerful. We made ribbons out of your guards there.” Tabris pointed at the hallway where he saw his men cut up in pieces and bleeding all over the stone floor.

Stepped forward. “Why did you betray us, Howe? My father was your friend,” she said, trying not to tear up, as she remembered all the times the arl spent time with her family and treated him like one of their own.

The arl scoffed at her. “A clumsy appeal, child. He was a traitor to me and a coward to his nation. Trips to Orlais, gifts from old enemies, all while I sank in obscurity. Your family squandered glory which were rightfully mine. How suitable that their deaths should raise me to the ear of the king.”

 Tabris gaped at him and said “So you killed her family, you’re friends, because you were envious?”

Elissa looked at him, remembering how her family treated him and how he repaid them. All hope for forgiveness was gone.“You’re not getting away with this."

He just laughed at her threat. “You’re still very new to this. Shall I show you how it’s done?” he said, then he sneered at her.  “I made your mother kiss my feet as she died. It was the last your father saw. Your parents died on their knees, your brother’s corpse rotting at Ostagar and his brat was burned on a scrap heap along with the Antivan whore of a wife. And what’s left? A fool husk of daughter likely to end her days under a rock in the Deep Roads. Even the Wardens gone. You’re the last of nothing. This is pointless. You already lost.”

“You’re lying. We haven’t lost yet.”

Howe only sneered and signaled his men to attack. He tried to get to Elissa, but Amadeus locked him in a barrier as the others went for the mages. He casted glyphs of paralysis and repulsion together, causing an explosion and stopped the thugs from moving. The rogues made fast work of the mages while Alistair drew the remaining guards’ attention. The rogues faded from view and then suddenly appeared to stab the unprotected backs.

Howe broke out of the barrier and he fought like a cornered animal. But bring enough hounds and the fiercest wolf will be brought to bay.

He was gasping, lying in a pool of his own blood, as Elissa came near. “You thought that you can break me, by talking about my parents being dead. But you’re wrong. You’ve only made me stronger. You thought I could have no chance,” she spat at him. “You’re lying, Howe, to yourself most of all. You see, I am a Grey Warden. We fight, even when everything seems hopeless.”

That only enraged him. “There it is, right there! That damned look in the eye that marked every Cousland success that held me back. It would appear that you made something of yourself after all. Your father would be proud but I on the other hand, hate you more than ever.”

They stared at the dying man, each one of them without pity. But no matter. The arl was choking on his rage as well as on his own blood. 

“Maker spit on you! I …deserved more…” he gasped, then he breathed his last.

Yep. He definitely deserved more stab wounds.

The others gave Elissa time to compose herself, then Tabris came near to her. "Are you alright?” he asked.

She shook her head, as if clearing away unwelcome specters, but clarity did not return. She looked at him, more confused than ever. “I..don’t know..it feels so….unreal. I thought everything will be right again when he dies. But now..it doesn’t feel like it.”

Tabris looked at her, remembering what he felt as he dropped Vaughan’s body to the ground. On how Shianni asked later if he killed them all and he said they all died like swine.

Revenge comes bland, when justice is being served. 

“Don’t worry. It’ll take a few days for that to sink in. But at least, he won’t be betraying anyone anymore,” he said to her. 

Elissa smiled at that. “You’re a good friend, Tabris. Thank you.”

“When you need me, I’ll be right here. Well, not… here in the dungeons. I meant-ah you know what I mean,” he said as she giggled. “While we’re at it, why don’t we get out of here? I have enough of this place.”


	107. Chapter 107

When they returned to Anora, they found a guard.

“Why are you dressed like that?” Alistair asked as the Queen stepped out of her prison. In armor. Anora explained that Howe’s men would want her dead while her father’s men would escort her to the palace because her father wants her dead. Tabris shook his head and asked “What is wrong with you nobles? First you kill your friends then you kill your daughters?”

Elissa stepped forward and introduced Alistair to her. She looked at him but whether there was admiration or gratitude, they did not know. She only nodded and asked about their next step.

“Where’s Soris? Didn’t we tell them to wait for us here?” Tabris asked, looking around as if his cousin were just hiding in the other rooms.

“If you meant the elf, they were already gone. They said the guards have been drawn away and so they said they’re taking their chance,” the Queen replied, annoyed to be given an errand by someone so lowly like an alienage elf.

 As they moved towards the main hall, Amadeus muttered, “I don’t like this.”

“What?” Tabris whispered. Amadeus gave a glance at Anora, in a guard’s armor. “It’s understandable to hide her from Howe’s men. But why hide herself from her father’s men?” he asked.

“You heard her. Kin-slaying is the fashion now.”

“You honestly believe Loghain would kill her own daughter?”

Tabris thought about this and shrugged. “Well, I don’t know how nobles think. But what I do agree on is Anora not being seen by men of either Howe or Loghain.” Amadeus had no answer to that and he couldn’t explain what was bothering him so he kept his scruples to himself.

They opened the door into the hall and did not expect a whole regiment, waiting for them, arrows nocked and pointed at them, swords drawn, blocking their escape. A woman stepped forward, lifting her visor, revealing a sharp, hard face. She ordered them to halt.

“Wardens!” she shouted, in that commanding voice of hers. “I am Cauthrien, Teyrn Loghain’s right hand. In the name of the regent, I am placing you under house arrest for the murder of Rendon Howe and his men at arms. Surrender, and you will be shown mercy.”

“How did she know we were here?” Amadeus hissed. Then he blinked and asked them, “Where’s the maid?” When he only met blank stares, he pushed himself in front of them. “We were here to free Queen Anora, who was held captive by Howe,” he answered Cauthrien. Alistair pushed his visor up and hissed at him. “What are you doing? We’re not supposed to tell her she’s with us!”

That drew Cauthrien’s gaze upon him. “I know you. The usurper. You lie as well as you breathe. The queen isn’t being held prisoner here or anywhere else. Her father would never stand for such a thing.”

Amadeus turned around to Anora. “Your Majesty, I think she was misinformed. Do kindly inform her that Howe held you here against your will and you have sent  for help from us.”  

Anora looked at him and then to Cauthrien. She stepped forward….and sobbed. “Ser Cauthrien! Praise the Maker you’re here,” she said, stunning the other wardens. Then she pointed at them, her face stained with tears. “These brigands tried to kidnap me!”

Ser Cauthrien glared at them while the Wardens stood gaping at Anora, who shuffled off to Cauthrien’s side. “You would dare kidnap a Queen? An anointed Queen? I should have expected this.” She turned her eyes at Alistair. “You think you can carry her off to make your claim stronger? We should have known you’ll play dirty.”

“Alright, so does anyone know how to get out of here?” Alistair asked, readying his sword and shield.

“Stab them?” Tabris asked, drawing his own weapons.

“I meant a real plan.”

“There’s too many of them. And they’re too scattered for my glyphs,” Amadeus said.

“Then the plan involves us dying,” Tabris suggested.

“Stop trying to be glib about this! Someone needs to know what happened here,” Amadeus hissed.

“Well, I’m going to fight. We’re Grey Wardens, aren’t we? We’ve killed bigger enemies.”

“Spare me your suicidal thinking. These are men, thinking men, not dumb darkspawn and some peasant rabble. Some of you nearly died just fighting through Howe. ”

Cauthrien had handed Anora off to safety and turned to face them. “This is the last time, Wardens. Surrender now, and you will be shown mercy.”

“And where do you think you’re taking us?” Alistair asked.

“To Fort Drakon, to await mercy from Teryn Loghain.”

“You think we’ll beg for mercy from that man? Like I’ll believe that we won’t be killed as soon as we surrender,” Alistair spat.

“On my honor. You’ll be delivered, alive, to the fort.”

“You know, we should do what she said,” Tabris whispered.

“Are you out of your mind?” Alistair whispered back.

“We surrender!” Tabris said, his hands aloft, letting his daggers fall to the stone floor.

“What are you doing?” Elissa hissed at him.

“Saving ourselves. And let the others know what’s happening.” He nodded at Amadeus.

“You have a plan?” the mage asked.

Tabris stepped closer and whispered. “I’m a burglar.”

Then he stepped back to look at Amadeus. “And you need to run, Schmooples. This will only take a minute,” he said, as he elbowed the guard who tried to bind him.

At once, the shouting and battle commenced. It was true, what Amadeus said, that they would be defeated. But there were only four people going to the fort, and he was nowhere to be found.

* * *

Back at the estate, a guard was complaining of a great black mabari scratching the door. Fortunately, Thorin happened to pass by near him and overheard. He thought for a second and ordered him to hurry and let it in, running not far behind the guard. He reached the balcony before the main floor as the guard opened the door and a huge dog came bounding in. A moment later, Amadues came running up the steps, shouting the queen’s name, oblivious to the guard looking at him with his mouth open.

“Anora!” Amadeus shouted into the great hall. He kept shouting her name, drawing everyone out. Arl Eamon looked at the mage then frowned at Thorin. The dwarf saw it so took hold of the mage’s robes, stopping him from searching the rooms himself. “Calm, down Amadeus! What’s wrong with you? And where ware the others?” he asked. He noticed his clothes were spattered with blood, and with the others missing, it filled him with dread.

Amadeus was holding his head between his hands. “The others were captured. The queen, she-” he stopped when he saw the queen emerge from her room, composed and not at all bothered by what happened earlier. Her hair was perfectly coiffed and her face was steely even when Amadeus snarled and strode towards her. “You. You planned all this. You wanted us captured!” he shouted, as he stopped in front of her and pointed a finger at her face.

Anora was icy and regal. She glared at him to remind him of his place. “What a spurious accusation. I did no such thing. I was held prisoner, as you know-”

“Drop that helpless damsel act! You were held prisoner only because you chose to. You knew Howe would imprison you when you told him you were going to work with us. Howe was getting too big a liability for your father, so you sought to eliminate him through us. And you sent for your father’s men to capture us and give Loghain hostages to parlay with.”

“You are mad.”

“Oh, really? Explain why you accused us as your kidnappers in front of Cauthrien?”

“I have told you not to reveal my identity to my father’s men and you disobeyed me!”

“For good reason! If it wasn’t for that, we wouldn’t have known where your loyalties lie. And now, we all know you were always after your own interest.”

“AMADEUS!” Thorin bellowed.  Both of them looked at the dwarf. “Can somebody tell me what’s going on here? Why had only the two of you returned? And where are the others?”

Amadeus spoke first. “We were doing fine. We had killed Howe, rescued the Queen until she sent her maid to fetch Loghain’s men to ambush us.”

“He’s lying. I have nothing to do with the ambush.”

“Really? That’s not what your maid said.”

Anora checked, her face losing some of its haughtiness. “Where Is Erlina? What have you done with her? Tell me where you took her!” she demanded.

“I leave you to guess, Your Majesty. If you could brazenly lie you have nothing to do with the ambush, then I can also lie that I know nothing about where she is.”

“Enough!” Thorin boomed. “What happened after Loghain’s men ambushed you?”

“The queen here told them we were kidnapping her and so we fought. She slipped away while we were distracted and we…it was too much. They were too many. They had the estate surrounded. The others…they bought me time to escape.”

“So where are they? Had they been killed?”

“No. They’ve been bound and taken.”

“Where?”

 “Fort Drakon,” he answered, the rage knocked out of him. “They’ve taken them to Fort Drakon.”

* * *

“Infiltrating an estate is one thing, but an impenetrable fortress? I hope you have a good plan,” Arl Eamon remarked to the Wardens seated around the table.

“We are not leaving them there for Loghain to use against us,” Amadeus answered. “Besides, they have Alistair and if he’s dead, then it’s over.” He spread the plans of Fort Drakon on the table the arl provided and asked: “So how are we going to get in?”

“Through the front door,” Thorin answered, moving closer to inspect the plans.

“You’re not very subtle, are you?”

Thorin stretched his arms, letting them see fully his impressive bulk. “Do I look like I’m built for subtlety?”

“We could go through the back door. It happens I’m very good at that,” Zevran suggested.

“The ‘back door’ as you say, is well below the fortress and empties out to sea. Even if you managed to fight the currents, you would have to climb a hundred feet tall vertical tunnel to reach the lowest floor. And even then, all doors there open from the inside.” Zevran tutted his disappointment.

“A siege?” Arl Eamon suggested.

“No. A siege will take too long, it brings too much noise and we have no hope to starve them out.” Thorin replied. “We’ve got to go small.” He tapped the plans. “If you say there’s one way in and one way out, then they would have to be supplied, somehow. Does anyone know when their supplies arrive?”

They decided that Zevran, Oghren, Amadeus, and Morrigan would go. Neria did not like to be left behind a second time. “We’re not going? That’s not fair! Why should they go and not us?” she complained.

“ We’re going to go see Loghain and talk him into releasing the others. And he needs to see the rest of you with me,” Thorin explained.

“What the sod for?” Brosca asked but Zevran shushed him. “The point, my friend, is that he wouldn’t be looking where he’s supposed to.” When he turned towards him with a puzzled frown, Zevran just winked.

“Are you sure you were not seen?” Thorin asked Amadeus. He nodded. So Thorin turned to Eamon and asked him where Loghain would agree to meet. The arl suggested a public place, like the Gnawed Noble. Thorin told him to send a message to the teyrn with terms of negotiations.

“What are we going to do with her?” Amadeus asked with a nod at Queen’s room. Thorin looked at Arl Eamon and asked if his servants were trustworthy. The arl replied affirmatively, a little offended that his household was suspected. Thorin asked Wynne and Mahariel to watch her and report if she’s doing anything suspicious. They nodded and they went out to prepare.

* * *

Alistair perked up when he heard footsteps coming near his cell. As he expected, it was two guards dragging an elf between them. When they were in front of his cell, one of them drew his weapon and shouted for him to stay back. He had thought to slam into one as they opened the cell, but naked, he would be cut down before he could reach them. So with no better option, he backed away from the door and they threw the body at the filthy hay near him. They swiftly closed the door, never lapsing in vigilance.

There was nothing to do but watch them go. “Are you alright?” he whispered at the elf.

“Ooompf, what? Oh, It’s you. I thought I’ve died already,” said Tabris. He has one eye swollen shut and bruises all over his ribs and chest. His wrists were red from chafing and his nose is dripping.

Alistair bandaged him as well as he could with any clean hay he could find and some spare bandages torn from his clothes, mentally thanking Mahariel for teaching him how to do it right while the elf moaned pitifully.

“Are you alright?” Alistair asked him again.

The elf smiled. “Oh, swell. Nothing like a good beating to put things in perspective.”

Alistair frowned at him. “This isn’t funny.”

“No, but your face is. Look at you, all frowns and creases. Why, you look like my grandfather.”

As Alistair continued to bandage him, the elf babbled on. “I was feeling great you, know, because woah, I’m a grey warden. I get to be a hero. No one expects a hero to be an elf, you know? Especially like me.” He peered with one good eye at the human’s face, a face people swoon over, and his build that would convince anyone that they are safe and need not worry. “I was kicking darkspawn ass and stopping evil people, I really thought…I could be great too. That I am great. But I guess that’s just a dream, like everything else.”

Alistair sighed. “We really need to get you out of here.”

Their neighbor thought so too. “You look like you’ve been dragged through ten kinds of crap, friend. What did you do?” he asked them. He leaned into the bars to gawk at his friends, his greasy hair and dirty face leering.

“Who cares. But we’re not staying here,” Alistair answered, continuing to tend to the elf’s wounds and ignore both their babbling.

Their neighbor laughed. “Good luck with that. I’ll expect the Maker to walk in here and sing us a song first, though.”

When their neighbor was satisfied and walked away, Tabris turned to Alistair. “So, are we going to escape?” he asked, a bit of lucidity coming back.

“Well, the bed looks nice and the food’s not so bad, but this place isn’t really my cup of tea, you know?”

“Alright. Ugh. Where’s Elissa and Leliana?”

“They’re over there.” Alistair pointed to where they are. They were too far away from them to call without alerting the guards. But they can hear Leliana trying to comfort Elissa, while the latter was looking at a pile of corpses at the corner. Elissa was staring at one particular corpse, a man with red-gold hair, naked and slung over, his eyes dull and staring into nothingness. At her.

“Don’t look. Don’t look,” Leliana repeated, but she could not look away. Because in another time, she used to look to those same eyes. In secret moments, in silent glances, she would look into those eyes and tell them that, despite the distance between them, he was hers and she was his.

But they tell her now one final message. The message of the grave.

“We need to get out of here,” Alistair repeated, as Leliana tried to shake her awake.  In vain.

* * *

At Fort Drakon before the doors, a guard frowned upon a dwarf and an elf dressed in garish clothes. The elf was wearing a ridiculous looking hat, a hood with feathers sticking out the top like the ass of a dressed chicken. He was wearing a loose tunic in bright red silk and striped pink. The dwarf was dressed the same way with a tighter fit and without the hat. The combination of his clothes and his flaming red hair is rather headache inducing. “So who are you two supposed to be?” he asked. Zevran bowed. “We sir, are the performers of the Antiva City Circus. The famous Broma brothers. Surely, you have heard of us?” he asked gaily.

The guard looked to his companion, who looked as confused as he is. He turned back to the elf. “You don’t look like brothers.”

Zevran acted shocked. “How can you say that? Are your eyes failing? Look at us, we are twins-not identical but twins nonetheless.”

“I’m the pretty one,” Oghren added.

“And also the fat one,” Zevran rejoined.

The guard raised a brow at them. “Right. So, what are you doing here?”

“We are here for the commander of this fine establishment. It is his birthday, no?” Zevran explained, looking around at the imposing facade.

The guard looked at his companion. “It’s not his birthday, is it?”

Before his companion could answer, the elf scolded them. “Don’t tell me you forgot? What kind of terrible man at arms are you? No doubt he is crushed. It’s fortunate indeed that the regent sent us to entertain him.”

The guards bristled at being scolded by a nobody but they checked their anger when they considered what they said. What the elf said may be true, and it is risky not to at least check. They knew the officers were very touchy, even on little things. “Wait over there, I’ll get the captain. He never said anything about circus freaks,” the guard said, loud and spiteful but he went to a side door.

“There. That wasn’t so difficult, was it?” Zevran whispered at Oghren.

“Easy for you to say. These pants ride up something fierce,” the dwarf answered, trying to free the cloth sticking in his crack.

“You should lose some weight, my friend,” Zevran suggested.

“How about you lose your tongue?”

The elf held up his hands. “Alright. If you want me to stop talking, then you do it.”

The guard returned with their boss. “Alright, what’s this about?” their captain asked.

“My partner and I are performers. The regent hired us. Said morale was low,” Oghren explained.

The captain crossed his arms and looked over them both. “You’re performers, are you? What’s your act?”

“Our act? The elf here juggles swords while I..” he looked at the elf uncertainly.

“He does a traditional dance of death. He…lights his pants on fire and everything. It’s quite a spectacle,” Zevran supplied.

“Oh, yeah? Show me some tricks. Some simple ones,” the captain requested.

Zevran got his hat off, then showed the inside, showing nothing. Then, he held the hat out, then reached inside. He pulled out by the ears one angry looking nug.

“It’s dead,” the captain commented at the limp animal.

Zevran gave it a small shake whereupon the nug gave a half-hearted squeak.

Oghren held out a handkerchief, showing front and back. He balled it, muttered some words and lifted it, showing a raven. A very bored looking raven. He tried to shake it also to make it perform but the raven bit his hand and he started flailing around as the raven held on.

“Er, we’re still training that one,” Zevran explained, as Oghren thrashed around, shouting obscenities.

But they made the captain laugh enough to let them through. “You can perform on the main hall on the condition the dwarf keeps his pants on. That’s non-negotiable,” he said, chuckling, and signaled for his subordinates to let them through.


	108. Chapter 108

Alistair waited patiently for the guards to return with their food. When one appeared he immediately began to call for his attention.

“Hello? I need your help here. My mate here just died,” he informed him.

The guards looked at him skeptically. But he set aside his tray and walked toward him. He peered at the elf. The elf was deathly pale as he lay in the straw, not moving. Seems his fellow soldiers have enjoyed themselves far too much.

“Step away from the door,” he ordered. Alistair moved away from the bars and into the corner. Satisfied with his demeanor, the guard took out the key and held his sword on one hand. He opened the door and knelt to inspect the elf, his sword pointed at Alistair.

Suddenly, the elf sprang up and held on his leg. The guard stood up and tried to kick him away, but Alistair barreled into him and slammed him into the bars, dropping his sword. Alistair wrestled him onto the floor, his shouts muffled as a hand was held over his mouth. The guard fought against him, punching at his ribs. But Alistair held on, and the guard did not notice the elf reach for the sword with his legs. His foot snagged the hilt and stabbed high into his ribs. The man’s eyes widened as the sword pierced inside, and he looked to Alistair with a silent plea. But Alistair held tight the hand over his mouth, even as it became wet underneath, until the eyes faded away and his breath stilled. They held on until they were sure that he was dead, then released him.

Tabris clutched at his ribs and curled into himself, moaning, while Alistair stripped the corpse of its armor. He took the keys and went to hold the elf up. He dragged them to the other cell and freed their companions. Leliana was about to help them, but Elissa could not walk on her own and she had to guide her.

“It’s going to be alright,” she repeated, hoping that her friend would come back.

“Now what?” Alistair asked, with Tabris’ arm over his shoulder.

Leliana looked at the armor in his hand. “Give those to me and wait here,” she said. He handed it over. She dressed herself with them and instructed them to wait for her.

She returned with armors and weapons for the others, making several trips. They dressed while she poured some potion into Tabris’ throat. His wounds closed over and he sprang up with his usual energy. The only thing they could not fix was Elissa, who was staring into nothing.

“So what do we do?” Tabris asked.

“We should sneak out of here,” Leliana suggested. “I have seen how many guards we have to pass and we might not have a chance to defeat them all. Not with only three of us,” she said, with a glance at Elissa.

Alistair nodded. “Alright. Do you know the exit?”

She shook her head. “I have not gone far enough.”

“Then we will have to find out way back out,” Tabris answered and without another word, they walked out of the dungeons.

* * *

Their newfound freedom was lost when an overly alert guard spotted them wandering in the corridors.

“Halt, soldiers,” the guard ordered them. He looked at them, puzzled, when they only stared back and not with the deference and the salute he expected. “What are you doing loitering here? Did you abandon your posts?”

One of them looked at the others then at him. “No, sir,” he answered. The guard looked at him with brows drawn, as his answer sounded like a servant would to his master, not a subordinate to his superior. He peered at them all and observed they had a very relaxed stance, not a standing like soldiers at attention.

Then his eyes widened when he recognized them. “You’re the Wardens,” he blurted out. They looked at him with shock, then wariness.

He drew his sword and backed away. “Guards! Guards!” he shouted. “The prisoners are escaping! The prisoners are-”

A dagger was buried in his throat. He stared at the elf’s oustretched hand, then treid to speak but only gurgled. He clutched at his throat and dropped to the floor.

But his sound of alarm succesfully brought his fellows to him. They surrounded the Wardens, their weapons pointed at them. One of them stepped forward.

“Drop your weapons! Surrounder now and you won’t be harmed,” he ordered.

Alistair looked at the others and they shook their head. ‘You’ll have to do more than talk, ser,” he answered.

“Very well,” he said and lifted his arm to signal the archers to fire. Alistair gripped his sword and shield tighter and prepared to die.

But the arrows never came because the guards suddenly froze. Then they twitched uncontrollably, as lighting passed through them, twirling and interconnecting, filling the hall with smells of ozone and burned flesh. They dropped one by one, revealing Morrigan behind them, her staff smoking.

“Morrigan?” Alistair asked in surprise.

“Yes. Tis is I,” she answered and waved her staff to get the wisp off.

Alistair was surprised at her appearing but not ungrateful for it. “I…never expected you’d come for us,” he said, starting to repent ever quarreling with her.

She snorted. “That should not be surprising. I have not expected less from you. You would always need someone to help you, for your feeble mind makes it impossible for you to correctly put your boots on, much less escape from here.”

All hope of reconcilation evaporated instantly. “Admit it. You just can’t live without me, can you?” he said with resentment.   

“Don’t flatter yourself. If I wished for a slobbering, witless being, you would be very far from being considered for the position, I assure you.”

“Thank the Maker for that.”  

“Can you continue your lovers’ spat after we get out of here?” Amadeus asked as he appeared behind Morrigan. He walked forward to check for their injuries, heading straight to Tabris. He fussed much over him, even though the potion had healed most of his injuries. Tabris waved his hands away and pointed at Elissa.  

“Elissa needs help,” he reminded him.

Amadeus looked at her blank face, a face he had seen too many times at the tower and shook his head. Hers was not a sickness of the body but a fracturing of the mind which is beyond his ability to heal. “There’s nothing I can do for her, except that she needs to be moved to safety soon.”    

“Like we all,” Alistair said. Zevran and Oghren then came running to them.

“Braska! The guards are buzzing like bees,” the elf cursed as he joined them. He faced the door and took his weapons out. He glanced at Elissa and seeing her face, he stared. “What has happened to her?”

“Long story,” Alistair said, drawing his own weapons as they heard footsteps approaching. “The important thing is, we need to get her out of here soon.”

He stared some more but she seemed not to recognize him or anyone. He looked at her one last time and turned to face the guards pouring into the hall. “Yes, we do,” he vowed, gripping his dagger tightly, his face like stone.

* * *

“Welcome back,” Thorin greeted at Tabris and the others. While in the tavern, they talked Cauthrien into not sending reinforcements or paying attention to Fort Drakon by dragging on the negotiations, the others fought their way out. Cauthrien never expected them to send another party to rescue those captured, confident at seeing all the rest of the Wardens there with her. She kept asking about Amadeus and Thorin kept denying that he had returned to them, until her soldier appeared to her side and appraised her of the situation at the fort. She glared at them and broke off the talks. She went out with orders for reinforcements but it was too late; the prisoners had escaped.

The prisoners have broken out of the fortress swiftly before the reinforcements came. They lost their pursuers among the twisting alleys of the city and found their way back to the estate. They picked up along the way Erlina, Anora’s maid, who Amadeus had walled up in the secret compartment in the warden warehouse. At the estate, the prisoners gave a report to their leader about what happened at Howe’s estate and the fort. Satisfied, he gave them the night to rest. They needed it, Elissa most of all. She seemed unresponsive to anyone and took to her bed as soon as they arrived.

But Tabris asked for leave to visit the alienage the next day. His worry had been gnawing at him ever since they freed Soris from Howe’s dungeons. He never felt homesickness so overwhelming before. Thorin agreed but asked him to take someone else with him. He asked for Leliana to accompany him, and expecting that the alieange was closed by order of the dead arl due to reports of a plague, he asked Wynne too. The elder mage accepted while Amadeus frowned at him across the room. To his surprise, Mahariel asked to join them. He was not keen on the Dalish elf with them, but he never disliked her that much to the point of spitefully turning down her request. He accepted and never turned to Neria. It brought tears to her eyes which made Brosca scowl at him and refuse to go with him when he asked.

As they prepared for bed, Brosca scolded him on his coldness with Neria. “Still mad at Runt, eh?” he asked.

He scowled as he pulled the covers out, his back to the dwarf. “There’s no forgiveness for a bloodmage,” he answered.

“She ain’t just that. She’s a kid; she knew nothin bout what’s bad and not.”

He just scowled at his pillow.

“She ain’t got the proper people to guide her right,” his friend continued. “And yer someone she trusts. And ye left her. Yer just as daft as she is, sulkin about this too much. If yer better than her, show it, not this sulkin business.”

“Alright, Alright! Fine, I’ll talk to her in the morning,” he said finally. He climbed into his bed and pulled the covers up to his chin. “Just let me ignore her until this night, alright?”

* * *

The next day, the party went out to the alienage. Neria was with them, for she and Tabris had a talk earlier and they were friends again. He agreed to take her to his home and she was so happy she behaved and did as anyone asked without grumbling.

As they walked throught gate to the alienage, Tabris sighed. It’s good to be back home.

Tabris walked on the familiar path, a smile on his face as he passed the dungheap where he grew up, with the same rickety roofs, and the crumbling walls. Arl Eamon’s place, with its beautiful tapestries, burnished doors and gleaming floors, could not give half the happiness he felt by coming home, even if home looks like a pigsty.

He looked back to his companions to see their reaction. Wynne and Leliana were walking very placidly together, and when the bard saw he was looking at her, she smiled. He was relieved, for he worried that she would be disgusted by the place he had grown up. But she was not, and he truly knew that she loved him. Meanwhile, Neria was very intrigued to be somewhere with a lot of elves. There was a lot she did not know, and the elves stared at her as she fell enamored of the bins. Even Mahariel got off her high horse. Her ears were pricked up with interest as she looked around, not expressing pity or patronized them about their way of living. The other elves had not seen a Dalish before and stared at her. She stared back and so entered a contest of who gets to be embarrassed first.  

He turned around and looked forward, happier than he expected. It seems however, that they were the only ones happy there.

Elves were gathered on the front of a house and he spotted Shianni, the only redhead in the crowd. She was arguing with an odd-looking mage in the front of a house.

“Shianni!”

The elf girl looked around, annoyed at the interruption, but when she saw him, her face lit up and she ran to his arms. It was a moment before they could separate themselves to talk.

“Maker’s breath. They all said all Grey Wardens died with the king. Everyone thought…Valendrian even held a funeral for you. Cousin, you have no idea…the things that happened after the wedding-I’m babbling aren’t I? I’m so happy to see you,” his cousin babbled on.

 He smiled, seeing that she had not changed, that the human pig had not destroyed her. “Well, you’re always babbling,” he said.

She punched his arm playfully.“So much has happened. It’s good you’re home.”

“Yeah, I can see that. I thought there were more people than I saw last,” he said, craning his head to look at the crowd.

Her smile faded and Shianni threw a tentative look at him. “You don’t know?”

He picked her tone and looked at her with confusion. “Know what?”

“Of course you don’t.” Shianni stepped away from him and covered her face.

“That mage…he is not from here,” Wynne said, looking at the dark-skinned mage preaching about a cure but he did not hear her. He could not pay attention to others now that he was filled with dread at Shianni’s words. “Know what, Shianni?” he repeated.

She stood like that for a moment then dropped her hand and slowly looked up at him. “After you left, the regent appointed a new arl. Rendon Howe. The first thing the human did was march troops in a purge. Some people blamed you and Soris for standing up to Vaughan.”

“It’s a fact that Howe sent soldiers here because of Vaughan’s death, Shianni. Even you know that,” said a woman bitterly as she looked at Tabris.

As Shianni turned around to argue with the speaker, Tabris reeled with the news that people died. Because of him.

 “But…I nearly got hanged because of that,” he said, stopping the quarrel. “Soris was left to rot in prison. And I was saved only to risk my life again and again, fighting darkspawn, until I die. Why? Why would they do that? Was it not enough? Why did they still have to kill innocent people?”

Shianni had no answer for that, but before she could say something, the shouting went louder.

“What’s going on here?” Tabris said, craning his neck at the commotion.

Shianni dropped her eyes. “I was going to tell you about that.” She explained that there was a plague and some people from Tevinter came by and offered to cure them. The odd thing is, the people who went to them had never returned.

When he heard Tevinter, Tabris felt a growing knot of fear. He gripped her arms, his face paling under the midday sun. ‘Where’s my father? Shianni? Where’s my father?”

She raised her eyes to him. “They..the Tevenes…they took him. As well as Valendrian and many others.”

* * *

They burst into the hidden warehouse, where they met an elf woman, who had sold her own kind and had no regrets. Mahariel put an arrow in her eye, her own eyes blazing.

The warehouse was filled with lots of thugs, but they killed them all, showing no mercy. They moved on to the last floor, where they met a magister who was responsible for the whole operation. Tabris shuddered at the sight, but he steeled himself, for his father’s safety was formost in his mind. He leaned over the banister, looking below where the magister and his thugs were gathered. He noticed cages full of elves, too sick and weak except to cry feebly for help.

“I see we have an interruption after all. I am Caladrius. And you I assume, must be the Grey Warden I’ve heard so much about,” the magister said to them. He stepped in front of his thugs. “And I see I have been caught,” he said gaily, not minding that they had killed countless of his thugs to get to him. “No matter. Surely we could get some compromise?”

“What compromise?” Tabris asked.

The magister smiled. “I have here some documents proving that Loghain made a deal with me to buy elves. For one hundred sovereigns each.” He freed his hands in an open gesture. “Let me go, and I will give these papers to you. I heard you were going to participate in the Landsmeet. These will help you greatly against Loghain. I will also give you the sale I made and some of the elves you knew. For they were important to you aren’t they? Just let me go, and this is the last that you see me.”

While Tabris looked on, the others started whispering.

“A Tevinter magister offering slavery,” Wynne said with disgust. “You must not accept his bargain.”

“I agree. There is nothing more fulfilling than ending the life of a despicable shemlen who sold the people into slavery,” Mahariel said.

Tabris considered his proposition and said, “Let all the elves go.”

Caladrius’ face fell. “Ah, I cannot do that. You know how buying and selling works, don’t you? They simply must go with me.”

Tabris looked at him with the same eyes he had back when Vaughan was at his mercy.

“No deal,” he said, as he threw his dagger, burying it in the magister’s chest. That was the signal for the others to start attacking. Wynne trapped the magister in a spirit barrier as they took care of the grunts. Neria summoned an ice storm to froze the archers solid and confuse their arrows, as Mahariel dropped her traps at the top of the stair and shot every warrior that came up and got stuck. Tabris and Leliana positioned themselves at the top of the stairs, hacking anyone who dared to come up at them. Neria summoned another storm when the archers unfroze, and they were sitting ducks for Mahariel’s arrows, her spells, and Wynne’s bolts.

Finally, it was the magister left and he unleashed his forbidden power, proving very tough to kill. Neria froze him as Wynne hit him with a boulder, repeatedly until he dropped to his knees.

When Tabris drew down his dagger for the killing blow, the magister asked him to stop. “Enough! Enough. It seems your reputation is an accurate one. I surrender!” he cried out.

“Surrender?” Mahariel said coldly, her arrow still trained on him. “You do not deserve mercy for what you have done.”

“Wait! Hear me out,” he gasped at Tabris. “Were I to…use the life force of the remaining slaves here. I could..” He gasped again as blood came spurting out his mouth ‘…augment your physcial health a great deal. Allow me to leave this place alive and I will be a little happier to do this service to you.”

“Blood magic,” Wynne whispered.

Tabris looked at the magister with disgust. These magisters never cared for anything but power. They did not know the feeling of being one with a community, the camaraderie in shared suffering, and the value of selflessness. Why did the magister think he wants to sacrifice more when he had already made too many people die for him?

“So..is my offer of any interest to you? Yes?” the magister asked.

He looks so much like Vaughan, kneeling like that, confident in his own power and status that he never thought he could actually die.

“I’m only going to accept one offer. Your death,” Tabris answered as he drew his blade across the magister’s neck.

With all their enemies dead, they swiftly freed the elves from the cages. The captives staggered forward, blinking their eyes, not believeng their luck that they had narrowly escaped the life of slavery and blood sacrifice. But they were very grateful to their rescuers and murmured their thanks. Except the elf he was looking for.

He spotted Valendrian and went to speak with him.

“Tabris, is it really you?” the elder asked weakly, He tried to stand and Tabris stepped forward to help him up. “When they said all the Grey wardens died at Ostagar, I prayed they were wrong. Are you all right? Why are you here?”

“I couldn’t let them hurt our people. Besides, the Blight is coming and I have to get you out of here.”

Valendrian stared at him. For a moment, it seemed he was looking at the same elf woman who had said she will never let the humans hurt them, even as she died.

“Where’s my father? Have you seen him anywhere?” the younger elf asked.

And there it is. He hated being the one to tell him, but this was his task as an elder. It always falls to him to deliver the truth, even if it will bring only sadness.

“They took him on the ships yesterday. He’s probably half to Tevinter right now.” He found he could stand, that he was strong enough to support the younger elf, who sagged against him. “Come, let us speak more after we leave this wretched place,” he said as he put his arms around the grieving elf and led him away and back to home.

* * *

Thorin grew impatient and worried about the others’ absence and so they went up to the alienage, where a redhead elf told them what happened and where Tabris and his companions had gone. They waited and then they saw scraggly-looking elves making their way back to the alienage, their own elves with them. Thorin stepped forward and tried to talk with Tabris but he brushed him off, going directly at his house. Wynne came up to him and explained what happened at the warehouse. They waited for Tabris to emerge, and when he did, he was carrying a knapsack and walked towards the exit, his face hard, never looking at any of them.

“Tabris!” the dwarf called, but the elf did not look back.

“Where do you think you’re going?” Thorin asked as he jogged beside the taller elf.

“I’m saving my father, you unfeeling boulder!”

“All the way to Tevinter?”

“If that’s where he is, then yes!”

“What about the Blight?”

“ The Blight can shove it. I’m going after my father.”

Thorin reached out at his arm and yanked him to stop and face him. “So you think you can just abandon your reponsibilities? We need you here, Tabris. We can’t stop the Blight without you.”

Tabris glared at him. “Why? Why does anyone care if I did? Nobody cares for elves. See, while I’m busting my ass to save them from the bloody Blight, they killed my people and took the others to be sold as slaves to some blood-crazy and accursed country! They took my father! My father, who had never done anything to deserve it except to have a stupid son. A son that gets his people killed. Why should they care if another elf goes to the maleficarum?” he answered angrily. “Tell me, because I am done, with all this. Let someone deal with it.” He made to turn away but Thorin grabbed his arm. “You’re not going anywhere.”

“Yeah, what makes you think you can stop me?”

“If you go, they’ll die! They’ll all die!” Thorin shouted, pointing at Shianni and the other elves. “You say nobody cares for elves? Then nobody cares for them. Nobody will be left to protect them from the Blight, from the humans who will still try to make them their slaves. You left them once, and looked what happened.”

“Some of them got killed because of me!”

“Some of them would have lived if you weren’t gone! And some of them were still alive because you were here. You killed the people trying to take them away, and you would have fought to keep them away from the Archdemon. You were wrong, when you said nobody cares for elves. Because you do.” Thorin paused to get his breath. “Or was I wrong?”

“What about my father and other elves who got taken away? Don’t they need to be saved? Why should I not go after them and stay here?”

Thorin only looked at him in silence. Then he stood back, letting him see Shianni, Valendrian, Soris and all the other faces. All of them were faces that he knew from childhood. They were both endearing and infuriating, willful and obedient, broken and happy, but they were still his people. His reason for fighting. He knew then that he was being given a choice: to condemn some of them to horror and death so others could have a chance to live.

He also knew what his father would have wanted and what he would want him to do.

He looked at them for a long moment then suddenly turned around and kicked a barrel, sending it flying.

“SHIT!…….SHIT!” he screamed, holding his hair in his hands, sobbing, because it seems that’s the only thing he can do now for his father.


	109. Chapter 109

Leliana paused before the door. She knew she had to say something to him, but still, she hesitated. Because she was not sure, whether she was strong enough to give comfort to those filled with despair.

She then remembered the days of her being an acolyte.

“I am afraid that you might need more study of the faith,” Mother Dorothea said to her one day when she administered to a family who asked for the Maker’s blessing. “To give comfort and hope to those in need of it, one must not rely just on saying pretty words and pretty phrases,” she chided gently.

She bit her lip but she humbled herself. “Then what must one do, Your Reverence?”

“For the Maker’s words to reach into their hearts, it must always be spoken from your heart,” she answered. “The Maker’s words, no matter how simple it may be, becomes the greatest gift to all and transforms them to live their life in the light. But only if it was spoken with sincerity.”

Leliana frowned at the word. She had lied too many times, to others as well to herself, to be sure if she was capable of being sincere anymore. What is sincerity to a natural liar such as herself?

“I…I do not know if I am able,” she said, bowing her head. “I have done too many things to be one, I…I cannot-”

Mother Dorothea reached out to her hands and held them. She was surprised, and looked from their intertwined hands to the Mother’s face, where she saw no condemnation but understanding. “The Maker understands, child. And He does not abandon those who believe in Him.”

“Then what should I do?”

The Mother smiled at her, “Practice, and soon you will know.”

She does not know if she had practiced enough to sound like one. But this was now the time that she will be tested; the time she was needed most.

She expelled a breath and a prayer and opened the door.   

 Tabris was sitting on his bed, his head in his hands. She stepped inside and closed the door gently. He did not look up. She went to sit by his side, putting her hand on his shoulder.

“Tabris, I am very sorry, for your father and all the others who were taken. I will pray, that Andraste will watch over them, wherever they may be,” she said.

She did not know if he heard her, for he kept silent. Then, in a paroxysm of grief, he spoke. “Why-why-WHY?! They were good people! They didn’t deserve this. They never deserve this,” he screamed, raising his head off his hands. He faced her and she saw so much despair in his face that it frightened her. “Maybe I do. I deserve all this shit that happened to me, but not them. Why did the Maker let this happen?”

“I swear, the Maker does not want this to happen to His children. But men can be full of wickedness and they disobey His will.”

He was sobbing now. “Amadeus was right. The Chantry is wrong. The Maker never cares for us. And I’m such a fool, a great big fool, for believing.”

“You are not foolish to believe. Sometimes, the Maker sends trials for us to overcome. Do not lose hope. He will not completely abandon us in our suffering. ”

Tabris turned around to face her. “Up to when? When will we suffer? When we elves are humbled to the ground until there’s nothing left for us to hope for?”

“He will not let suffering to go on forever, because the Maker loves us. That is why He had blessed Andraste to free His people from slavery. ”

“I used to believe that. Now, I’m not sure anymore. I’m not sure the Maker you are talking about exist.”

“He exists,” she insisted, desperate now. “Do not lose faith in Him.”

Tabris stood up and wiped his eyes dry. “Maybe He does exist. But I think He doesn’t care. At least, not to elves.”

* * *

Everyone waited in the common room for the Queen to arrive and start negotiations. While they waited, they discussed the motives of their enemy.

“Why would Loghain do such a thing?” Leliana wondered, the only Fereldan among them not hurt personally by the teyrn.

“I think it’s because of us.”

Everyone stared at Amadeus.

“Really? I don’t remember us telling him to sell elves to Tevinter,” Tabris said with a scowl.

“I did not mean it that way. Consider: first, we saved the Arl of Redcliffe, thus not getting the arl’s supporters. Then we revealed his involvement in the arl’s poisoning so now the nobles are angry at him. Then we stopped Uldred and revealed his illegal dealings with the mages. So now the Chantry and the templar order are angry at him.  We killed his ambassador to Orzammar. So now he won’t be getting help from the dwarves. He’s too proud to seek help from Orlais and he does not have the authority to make alliances with Nevarra or the Free Marches. The only country willing to help him is Tevinter and they have more need of blood than coin.”

“So because we succeeded, it justifies his selling slaves?”

“I’m saying we hit the bastard so hard he’s started digging his own grave.”

“Well, that settles it,” Thorin said, letting go of the table. “We’ve spent months running from him. It’s time we bring the fight to him.”

Anora entered with Arl Eamon and Riordan behind her She frowned at them all when they did not rise up before her, but she took her seat at the end of the table. Before they started on the Landsmeet, Thorin offered the leadership of the wardens, being the senior warden present. Riordan declined, saying he is from the Orlais chapter and so cannot replace those in other chapters. Besides, they were doing so well, that he did not think it was necessary for him to lead them.

Thorin asked about their order’s silence regarding the Blight. “We’ve sent a letter to your chapter reporting the situation here and requested help. But we never received a message back.”

Riordan nodded. “We have received your letter and forwarded it to Weisshaupt. I was sent here to give you the message of the First Warden, before the late arl Howe captured me," he replied. "The First Warden wrote to say to pull out and regroup at the Orlesian border.”

The table went silent.

“Bullshit! Why should we retreat now?” Thorin exclaimed. “We have our allies and we are close to winning here. Why would he tell us to abandon our work now?”

“To be fair, you wrote that you were just newly made recruits,” Riordan pointed out. “And Ferelden is hostile to Wardens,” he added, with a glance at Anora. “The First Warden will not spare any more Wardens only to be accused of treachery and killed. Our order is currently working out a plan with the Orlesian empire to end the Blight, but with the current leadership in Ferelden, they are limited to stopping the invasion of darkspawn into Orlesian land.”

“Leaving Ferelden to fend for itself.” He cursed Loghain silently, not wanting to do it in front of his daughter and further alienating their potential ally. He did not say aloud that First Warden just told them that they will only stop the Blight until all of Ferelden, its leaders included, are dead. This is something to be discussed privately by themselves. He drummed his fingers at the table, thinking about whether to obey their leader or follow their principles.

“We’re not going to abandon Ferelden,” he decided. “We’re going to take a stand here. If the First Warden doesn’t like it, he can come here himself.”

Oddly, Riordan did not insist that he follow the chain of command. “If you permit, I shall also fight with you.”

Thorin allowed him, surprised but grateful for his help.

Thus the matter with their order resolved, he called them to order about the Landsmeet. Arl Eamon presented Alistair’s claim to the throne and suggested that he rule, but Anora objected and presented her own claim.

“For years I have ruled this country as Cailan’s queen. Cailan’s a good man, but what Ferelden needs is not another good man but a good ruler. I need your support, Wardens and you need mine,” she declared. 

“Alistair is a Theirin. He is of the royal bloodline,” Thorin pointed out. He doesn’t know fully the rules of succession for topsiders, but he studied enough to know they put much value in bloodlines.

She turned to him. “Indeed. You are a fellow Grey Warden. What do you think of his potential to rule, nevermind his willingness?”

At the corner of his eye, he saw Alistair look at him expectantly. Alistair had improved much from the time they met and he was confident that he would grow into the role given to him. However, it is too soon to know and tell whether he is fit for kingship. This he can never tell to Anora with him present. “You have doubts of his abilities?” he deflected.

“Alistair seems like a kind, well-meaning young man, and biddable enough,” she answered. Alistair slumped in his seat, crossed his arms and muttered “Thank you for that ringing endorsement. That really warms my heart.”

“These are admirable qualities, if not kingly ones,” Anora continued. “He also seems to be a fine Grey Warden, which is why he should remain one and serve the kingdom by defeating the darkspawn.”

“He is still Cailan’s heir,” Arl Eamon insisted.

“Oh I have no doubt that others will follow him out of respect for Theirin blood,” she said irritably. “But others would see this as Arl Eamon grabbing for power.” The arl’s eyes widened and he sputtered in outrage. “Who else would Alistair turn to for help?”   

“Alistair has the right to listen to his advisers as he sees fit,” the arl replied evenly.

“Indeed. But that will only serve to establish a system of patronage that would return the nobility into the old days of constantly warring for power. Alistair’s weakness would destroy everything Maric had built.”

As they quarreled further, the other wardens whispered among themselves.

“Why is she still here?” Tabris hissed as he glared at Loghain’s daughter.

“We can’t get rid of her. If we let her go, she’ll go to her father. We need her support, no matter what she’d done,” Amadeus explained. “And she knows this.”

Tabris slumped in his seat but continued glaring at her.

“Yer supposed to be the funny one,” Brosca said to him, worried about the toll this is giving to his friend.

“Well, I’m abdicating. Anyone like to replace me can do it with my blessing,” he answered sullenly.

The dwarf peered at him. “Ye good?”

“No I’m not alright. We’ve got an overgrown lizard to kill.”

“Ye know, if ye wanna talk-”

“Just shut up. Shut up.”

“What say you?” the queen’s voice cut through the hubbub. “Are you going to support me at the Landsmeet?”

Her support was too important to lose. She commands the loyalty of some of the nobles and the common people love her, for being a commoner like them. They did not know what to do next when Amadeus spoke up.

“You and Alistair both have claims for the throne of Ferelden. Why not marry each other?” he suggested.

A chorus of “what” resounded throughout the room. But Anora was not here for indulging their feelings. She looked at Alistair and appraised him like he was a fatted calf at market. “Ignoring like he looked like my late husband, my main fear is that he might govern like Cailan as well. But it is true he has Theirin blood, and others would follow it beyond practical considerations. A union might be considered a compromise but- is this what Alistair desires?”

They looked at Alistair.

“This isn’t my idea, being king, that is,” he said. “I think she’s a great queen and as far as I’m concerned, she can have it.”

Anora looked smugly at them all. “So I trust that I have your support?”

“We..cannot have an unwilling king,” the arl said grudgingly.

“I will hold you to your word. Now comes the matter of dealing with my father. I shall help you defeat him in the Landsmeet. In return, you will spare his life, for me to deal with him as I see fit.”

Immediately, the table went up in an uproar, with Alistair and Tabris the most vocal of them all.

“No. Loghain needs to pay for his crimes,” Alistair said. The others agreed vigorously and enumerated his crimes which cannot be forgiven. There was no calming them so Thorin turned to Anora. “If you will excuse us? We need to have a talk among ourselves.”

Anora looked at the hostile faces around her and reluctantly nodded. “Be quick about it, Warden. The Landsmeet will start soon,” she said and swept out of the room.

* * *

The door opened and a blond head peeked out into the hallway. The estate was silent, empty; its occupants deep in sleep. Still, she knew that some of the guards would be patrolling somewhere and it was important that she be not seen. She sneaked towards the kitchens where she knew the servants’ entrance was located. Through the darkened kitchen she felt her way towards the door, a hand on the walls and her mind on the layout of the place. No one had seen her. She oiled the hinges of the door, opened it then carefully stepped out into the night.

With the same silent footfalls, she found her way in the meandering alleys of the city until she was halfway to her destination. But a feeling passed over her and as she walked, she focused on the sounds around her. It was unmistakable; there was a very faint staccato that could only be one thing.

“You can’t stop me,” she said to the shadows.

Zevran stepped forward. "That depends on where you’re going.”

“And where do you think I’m going?”

“To kill the one who took everything from you. To Loghain, am I right?”

“That’s why you can’t stop me. Go back to the estate,” she ordered him, drew the cloak tightly around her.

His face struggled with something, and he said, “I know I..don't have any right to interfere with your business. But please, don’t do this. Don’t throw your life away.”

Her face hardened. “I am not throwing my life away. I am going to make Loghain pay for what he’s done.”

She turned around but Zevran quickly stepped in front of her, blocking her path. “Zevran, let me through!”

“I can’t.”

She attempted to step around him but he stepped to block her. For every step she did to go forward, Zevran met her halfway.

“If you still try to stop me, I guess…I’ll have to go through you.” She unsheathed her daggers.

Zevran smiled, sadly, and unsheathed his own daggers. “Ah, it has come to this. Forgive me, but I cannot let you die.”

She attacked and he parried it. The alley was dark, save for flashes as the blades caught the light from the flickering torches. There were no noises, save for swishes as a flurry of feet stepped over from one position to the next. Reach warred with Experience, but Skill was just about even.

“Zevran let me go!”

She was growing desperate and that was what he was looking for. She made a wild stab, and he caught it, pinning her arm and holding her immobile against him.

“Not until you promise you’ll come back with me to the estate.”

She kicked his knee and sprang out from his grasp.  

“I won’t go back! I can’t go back! Not while he’s alive!”

“Then at least hear my final mission.”

“What does that have anything to do with this?”

“Everything. Please listen why I accepted the mission in Ferelden, far away from home, and it has nothing to do with any thought I might have to leaving the Crows. My mission, before I met the Wardens, did not end well.”

“If you want to convince me that this will fail as well, you’re wrong.” She parried his stab and launched a counterattack, which he barely dodged.

He wiped the blood off his cheek where a wound was freely bleeding. “To continue, I was cocky and arrogant. I boasted I was the best Crow in Antiva and I bragged my conquest, both as an assassin and a lover.”

“I don’t doubt that.”

“The Crow masters would agree with you," he happily concurred.Anyway, one of them grew tired of my boasting. My bid for an incredibly difficult mark was accepted, much to my surprise: A wealthy merchant with many guards and completely silent. Taliesen agreed to be part of my team, as well as an elven lass named Rinna. She was…a marvel. Tough smooth, wicked. Eyes that gleamed with justice. Everything I thought I desired.”

She stepped forward with a stab and he dodged. She expected that and with the other hand, swung her dagger to meet him. He parried and sprang away.

“If you’re trying to distract me with your past loves, you’re not doing a good job. I already know you’d bed anyone that moves.”

“That hurts my feelings, but you are….not all wrong. Yes, Rinna was a former love. She was special. I had closed off my heart, I thought, but she touched something within me. It frightened me. When Taliesen revealed to me she had accepted a bribe from a merchant, told him of our plan, I readily agreed she need to pay the price. I thought she betrayed us. The Crows was all we had and she betrayed us. So I allowed Taliesen to kill her.”

“What do you want me to think? That you’re stopping me because of her?” She lunged forward and he stepped back, out of her reach. She chased him with a flurry of strikes, which he met until he lunged at her wrist to make her drop her dagger. She saw that, turned it so his dagger met her gauntlet instead, and kicked him in the thigh.

He limped away, wincing, but she stayed where she was, resolute at not being led into a trap again. “Let me finish and you’ll know. Rinna begged me to stop him. On her knees, with tears in her eyes, she told me she loved me and had not betrayed us. I laughed in her face and said that even if it was true, I didn’t care.”

“You lied. That wasn’t true, was it?”

“I convinced myself it was. Taliesen cut her throat, and I watched her bleed as she stared up at me. I spat on her for betraying the Crows. When Taliesen and I finally assassinated our target, we found the true source of information. Rinna…did not betray us after all.”

“I’m sorry for you, but this does not have anything to do with this.”

“You keep saying that, and I’ll keep saying to let me finish.” She lunged again and he moved to parry, but she feinted and slashed high. He rolled to the side, and they circled each other. “ I was grieved. I wanted to tell the Crows what we had done, our mistake. Taliesen convinced me not to. He said it was a foolish waste. So we reported that she died in the attempt. We needn’t have bothered. The Crows….. knew what we have done. The master who disliked me told so in my face. He said the Crows knew..and they didn’t care. And one day, my turn would come. Because, to them, she was nothing and I was..also the same.”

“I am sorry, for you, and for Rinna, but this doesn’t involve me.” She moved again, her daggers circling and suddenly struck to the left. He parried that and tried to catch her hand and pin it but she swept her leg under him. He tripped and caught himself, dodging backward as she swept high, low and forward. He clutched at his neck, wet where the tip of her dagger grazed it.

“You once asked why I wanted to leave the Crows. In truth, what I wanted was to die. I had only myself to blame for this. And so I sought to kill the one responsible for her death: myself, by throwing upon the fabled Grey Wardens.”

Her eyes widened slightly then narrowed as she realized what he was trying to say. “I am not going to kill myself. I am going to kill Loghain!”

“And so you do. But even if you fail, you will still succeed, since your true wish is to die. Either you kill Loghain, or you get yourself killed.”

She did not answer. Instead, she became more vicious in her attacks. He had difficulty getting away, and at times he used his arm to protect his neck and sides. His arm was bleeding freely now, the blood leaving a trail on the cobblestones.

“But here I am. I was spared and when I still was trying to get myself killed, I met you. Instead of death, I was given a chance for a new life, to begin again. I have lost everything, but I was given more than I had lost. You and the others, have taught me that I wasn’t nothing. And Taliesen was dead, as he should. And I have no doubt, soon the masters will also follow him.”

She stabbed again which he deflected. 

“So why all the flirting, then, if you wanted to die so badly?”

“Ah. I needed something to do, as I wait for the blow that will finally end my miserable self. Even those about to be executed are given one last meal. Me, I wanted a good lay. But traveling with all of you and being with you now near the end, I realized then that I didn’t want to die. Not anymore. I wanted..to be with you." She stopped and he hoped that this was enough to stop her. "I’m selfish and vain and everything that is vile but please…don’t make me lose you.”

She stood still and he waited, hoping that she heard, that he was important to her as she was to him. But she moved forward and his heart sank.

He doesn’t remember when he fell in love with her, or why. Was it her beauty? Her kindness? Her wit? The naughty side of her behind the nice façade? He had met women such as her before and yet he never felt an attachment to them like this. He only knew that he had already fallen too deeply to stop. And as he focused on her pain, he forgot his own.

Maybe he deserves this end for loving an insane girl. If he cannot stop her; if it was not going to change anything…. then it is better that he would not live to see it.

He raised his dagger to parry it. But instead of meeting it, he let go. He closed his eyes, even as he knew that the blade was going for his heart.

He waited for the pain to come.

It did not. He had not lost.

He opened his eyes and saw her dagger was inches from his chest and her head was bowed.  

“Please, let me go, Zevran,” she sobbed. "I..can’t do this anymore. I can’t go on like this. I don’t want to live…I don’t want to fight…when everyone I had ever loved is dead.”

He clasped the hand that held the dagger and drew her close to him. Covering her in a warm embrace. “If you don’t want to fight anymore, I will fight for you. If you can’t go on, I will carry you. If it is too much to bear, then hold onto me. So please, live on because I am with you.”

He held her, as they crumpled to the ground, her daggers clattering on the stone floor to rest beside his. She was crying now in broken sobs, the four truths she had long ignored ringing clear in her mind:

She was an orphan.

She was now without a home.

She saw her lover was dead.

And even if they stopped the Blight, they are never coming back.

“They were never going to come back, are they? All of it?” she asked him brokenly.

He looked at her, feeling very sorry for her but knew that only the truth can save her now.

“No.”

She closed her eyes, her tears flowing freely. She buried her head in his chest and cried harder.

“But it won’t stay like this. It will get better," he assured her, stoking her hair gently. "Loghain will get what he deserves, and you won't let everything be lost as you have lost them. You will save us all. You…and the Grey Wardens.”

She sniffed and looked up at him, wiping her eyes. “You really believe in us that much, do you?”

“Of course. I have no doubt about that. Speaking from personal experience, you people are really hard to kill.”

She smiled at him through her tears. Maybe everything is not lost, after all.


	110. Chapter 110

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've edited this chapter because, after thinking about it some more, the previous one was more telling than showing. That done, let's continue on.

“The Queen agreed to support us in the Landsmeet but only if we find a way to spare Loghain.”

A cacophony of dissent erupted from Thorin’s announcement.

“We can’t spare him! He needs to die for what he’s done to Duncan and the other wardens,” Alistair protested.

“Unfortunately that’s the price of the Queen’s support, and she’s not budging,” Thorin informed him.

“I’m not budging either. Either he is executed for his crimes, or I’ll leave.”

Riordan looked at the assembled wardens and said, “He does not need to die. He can be conscripted to the Wardens. We need all wardens we have to kill the Archdemon. Killing darkspawn will be his penance.”

An even worse clamor greeted his suggestion.

“Absolutely not! He abandoned our brothers and blamed us for the deed. He hunted us down like animals. He tortured you. How can you simply forget that?” Alistair said to him with disgust.

“Yer full of nugshit. We been runnin away from him and now we turn around and kiss his ass?”

“He’s been killing us for like forever and now we just make him one of us? He should die!”

“Do you know what he’s done?” Tabris asked indignantly. “He worked with slavers and bloodmages! And you think he can be one of us?”

“My fellow Wardens, calm yourself! See reason,” Riordan implored.

Alistair shut him down.“It’s you who should see reason,” he shouted. “The Joining is a reward, not a punishment. Name him a warden and you cheapen us all! I will not stand by him as a brother. I won’t!” The others nodded vigorously at his words.

Thorin did not share in the outrage and asked the other warden calmly, “I assume you have a way to do the Joining to him if we spare him? We don’t have a Joining potion with us and we didn’t know how to make one.”

“I don’t have a potion with me. I don’t need to, because there is enough of you for one,” he answered, nodding at their amulets and holding up his own.

The others looked at theirs, then raised their heads and insisted Loghain should not have theirs.

 “Loghain is guilty of high treason. And the punishment for that is death,” Amadeus said, which made Alistair look at him puzzled. He never was fond of him and yet here he is on their side. But he was grateful for his help and so he found himself liking him more and more as he reasoned out their cause in words the other two will heed. “If we conscripted him, the Wardens would look bad to other countries. They’ll think the Wardens has too much power and above their laws, for allowing the worst criminal, a kingslayer, to escape punishment. This was exactly what Duncan was trying to avoid when he was conscripting. ”

“Alright, so he can’t become a warden,” Thorin relented. “What about sending him to exile?”

“And stir trouble abroad? We can’t risk him coming back here with an army,” Amadeus replied.

Thorin threw up his hands. “So what then? We can’t kill him, we’ll lose the Queen’s support for the Landsmeet!”

They fell silent, not having any other suggestion to offer.

“So if I become king, then Loghain will be punished, right?” Alistair asked, loud in the silence of the room.

“If that’s what the king wished,” Thorin said slowly, not liking where this is going.

Alistair thought about it, then made his decision. “I don’t like to be king. But it that’s what it takes for Loghain to get justice, then I’ll do it. I’ll take the crown. I declare myself as a contender to the throne of Ferelden.”

Thorin thought revenge is not a good enough reason to be king, but he kept it to himself and focused on pressing matters. “We still need to deal with the Queen,” he reminded them.

“I can help with that.”

All of them turned around to find Elissa at the door. She strode towards her seat with Zevran following close behind her.

“You’re back,” Tabris said as she took her seat. She smiled in apology. “I’m sorry for the trouble I’ve caused. But I’ve recovered and I think I can help with our current problem with the Queen.”

Thorin looked at her and saw that she looks well as she said. He still has some doubts but was curious as to how she can deal with Anora.

“We are both Fereldans,” she shrugged. “Let me talk to her.”

* * *

Elissa went to speak privately with the Queen. She had tried to convince the Queen to let her father go for the greater good but Anora stubbornly refused to surrender her father and insisted on their saving him. As she talked, Elissa remembered that in one of his peevish moods, Thorin would complain about civilians not knowing danger until it’s right at their doorstep.

Some people only answer to ruthlessness.

With that in mind, she turned back and opened the door, whispered something to Zevran. He handed her a bag. She thanked him and closed the door. She went back to face the Queen, putting her hand inside to withdrew the bag’s contents and show it to her.

It was a hurlock head.

Zevran smiled when he heard muffled screaming at the other side of the door. He looked at the corridor to check if anyone had heard it. No one came.

Inside the room, the girl held it to the screaming Queen, who had a hand on her throat.

“This is what we are facing!” she shouted at her. “This is what is clamoring at our very door! Do you think this one would care whether you are in the throne or not?” she said, giving a shake to the gruesome object.

“Put that away and let’s have a civil conversation,” the Queen croaked.

“No! Because all of you are acting like the Blight is something you can defeat with cleverness! That it’s just something for you to bicker about your positions and what you can get. You haven’t been to the front lines so you don’t know that these don’t care whether you are a pauper or a Queen because these will eat you just the same!” She shouted as she held it out to Anora, who backed away.

“I know fighting darkspawn has been hard on you…but oh, Maker, put that away,” Anora said, choking on her terror.

“No! You don’t know how I feel. We are fighting these things at a great cost to ourselves and yet all of you do not so much as lift a finger without us having to do something for you. You approve of sacrifice, only when you weren’t asked to do it.”

 “You’ve made your point. Now, put that away and let’s talk,” Anora replied, struggling to regain her composure.

Elissa put it down the table between them and covered it with the bag. “Now are you going to keep defending your father?” she asked, calmly now.

“You need my support at the Landsmeet. For that to happen, my father would have to be spared,” Anora insisted, but still rattled from her terror.

“You’re not getting it, are you? You still think you are in charge here? Either Loghain is executed, or we leave.”

“And what would that achieve? My father is a highly capable general. Even if you will not save your country, he can save Ferelden from the Blight.”

Elissa looked at her, looked at her naivete with pity. “That’s where you are wrong. Remember the first Blight? It had raged on for a hundred years, nearly causing the world to be destroyed until the Wardens appeared. Since then, all the other blights had ended through the Wardens hands. You know this. No matter how great a general, or how powerful a king, they had never killed an Archdemon. Only the Wardens have. Only we can. And we will not sacrifice our lives while Loghain lives.”

“It is your duty to fight the Blight. You cannot leave.”

“It is our duty to end it, but we didn’t say we will do it at Ferelden," she said which made Anora check. "We have no lands, no family to protect,” she said, her voice breaking but she fought back her tears. The dead do not need it. “And so we will leave.”

Anora saw the determined look of the girl opposite her and tried to change tack. “We cannot achieve anything, being opposed like this. I assume that you have a good reason to be so stubborn about this?”

“You think you can just ask us to spare your father, without explanation, when he let your husband and my family die.”  

“My father had nothing to do with your family’s murder. It was all Howe’s plot, not his.”

“If he isn’t part of it, he is either stupid or incompetent. Stupid, for not knowing what his lackey is planning, or incompetent when he knew but didn’t do anything to prevent it. And we both know that he is neither.”

“Your anger is understandable. And you are also right, he knew of Howe’s plans. But he did not let that happen out of malice, I assure you. Howe was very devious, he knew of my father’s blind hatred against the Orlesians and he used it.  He kept whispering that your family is disloyal, with your father being made an Ambassador to Orlais and increasing familiarity with its nobility. That’s how my father allowed the sack of Highever and the murder of your family. He was under a mistaken belief of your family being traitors. He did not allow it out of cold blood.”

Elissa looked at the older woman for some minutes, eyes narrowed. “I don’t believe you," she declared. "Loghain was planning to overthrow King Cailan a long time before Ostagar, when he poisoned Arl Eamon. He would have anticipated that my family would never stand for him betraying a king. He would have known that with the king dead, the crown will pass to my father. No, he was all ambition.”

“Yes he was planning for a long time. He would have eliminated the King’s supporters like your family then the king so he could hold Ferelden without opposition.”

 “And that’s also why he betrayed Cailan in the first place? Because he thought he was being too friendly with Orlesians?”

Anora fell silent, her eyes becoming pensive. “It…was more than that. You saw Cailan, correct? He was handsome, he was brave, he was everything a man should be. Only, he was terribly spoiled, because his subjects would deny him nothing and his charm would have gotten him what he wanted even with the hard-hearted of people. He was always focused on getting whatever had struck his fancy and he would discard the thing that he got tired of without even a thought. It was harmless….but it became fatal when he tried it on my father.”

The Queen drew a breath, her manner humble now as she recalled the man her father used to be. “My father had prided himself on his accomplishments in service of our country. He is loyal to a fault, and he expects it to be repaid with faithfulness from his troops and from his king, as he deserved. But Cailan, Cailan…he was thoughtless. In his pursuit of glory, he asked for Orlesian chevaliers without a thought to the objection of his general, who had served his father and him faithfully for years. Who had won battles despite being outnumbered and outmatched. Who would have ordered his army to stand to the last man. It had hurt him deeply, to be abandoned as soon as another new thing appeared.”

“But he cannot abandon Ferelden. Cailan, accepting help from the country that enslaved his land and caused untold horrors upon his people? He was a traitor. He was faithless, not a true Fereldan. And so my father thought he was the executing a criminal, when he turned his back upon his king at Ostagar.”

“Now you see why I want him spared?” Anora asked her. “It was not merely because he is my father, but because he would do anything to save our country. He’s not reasonable at the moment, but if you spared him, he would be of great use to you in stopping the Blight from destroying us all.”

Elissa thought about it and shook her head. “He’s gone too far. We cannot let him live.”

Anora threw her hands up in despair. “Then what do you want? For Ferelden to be destroyed?” she asked brokenly. She turned to her, her eyes blazing cold. “Then leave, because we will never abandon our home. We will never abandon Ferelden.”

“We don’t wish this country to be destroyed,” Elissa said softly. “We have lost too much to allow him to walk free. We cannot save Ferelden without justice done.  We cannot save it, with him unpunished for his crimes.” Unexpectedly, she knelt before her. “Only you can save it now,” she begged. “This country’s salvation lies in your hands, Your Majesty. Do it for your country. Be the Queen you were meant to be.”

* * *

On the other room, Amadeus was reading a book to pass the time they have to wait for the Queen's answer. he looked up when he saw Neria enter the room, who just looked at him. As usual whenever she was near, his hackles were up, which turned into confusion when she did not look at him with hostility but...apprehension? He did not show this outwardly however, and resumed reading as if her presence is nothing to him. On the corner of his eye, he saw her look at him furtively, then walked to the fireplace and took the poker out. She looked at him again but he acted as if he did not notice her so she went quietly away. Once she was gone, he closed the book and followed her silently into another room.

She was using the poker to smash the lock of some small chest she found. His curiosity satisfied, he turned away, when the lock broke and a packet of letters flew out along with some trinkets. Neria swept the papers off aside for the trinkets, but the seals on one of the letters caught his eye. The wax seal has an image of a golden lion on a field of purple.

He strode inside the room, startling Neria who immediately hid her treasure. "What are you doing?" he asked her.

She scowled at him. "Nothing. Go away."

He crossed his arms and stared down at her. "I saw you hide something earlier. You know, it's stealing, not looting, if the owner's still alive. And that's bad. Haven't your dwarf taught you that?" 

"Whatever, Grumpy." She gathered the papers and the trinkets and put them back in the ruined chest. She made to go past him but he held her back.

"Put them back."

 "Make me," she said, flaring up. 

At once she felt a prickle at the back of her neck, similar to the same feeling she has when she's about to get smited. He dared her silently to oppose him and when she hadn't he held out his hand. "Put them back. Better yet, give them to me and I'll return them. I doubt you're not going to run away with it."

She glared at him but handed the box over. "Where did you get this?" he asked, examining the plain chest.

"Eamon's room," she grumbled.

When the box in his possession, he gave one final look to remind her not to use her power against him and went out of the room. He headed to the arl's study as he said, but when she was out of sight, he darted into his room to look at the letters privately. 

 He looked at the letter bearing the seal and found a letter from Empress Celene of Orlais addressed to the arl and dated sometime after darkspawn was spotted massing in the Korcari Wilds. She formally offered her chevaliers to aid Ferelden as a gesture of goodwill and a hope to put the past aside for both their countries. He opened the next letters and found them to be all the Empress' replies, signing them all with only her initials. The second letter contained Celene's dismay that her offer was rejected and wished them well on their war. She also inquired about the wish of the arl  to have peace with both their countries. The arl must have wrote to her about marriage, which she answered in the next letter, among very flowery praises to the arl and some bashfulness, that she was flattered to being considered as Cailan's wife.

He drew back a little, doubting she, an empress in her own right, would actually be flattered by being a spouse of only a king but held his judgement and went on reading.

In the letter, Celene pointed out that he was already married. The next letter contained her sadness that Queen Anora, the rose among the brambles, could not produce an heir.  But if the arl truly wishes to save the Calenhad bloodline and of course Ferelden, then Anora must go, sad it may be. Ferelden's well being comes first. 

The next letters contained information on the plot to seduce the king and convince him to set Anora aside. Cailan resisted at first, but slowly become amenable as he ranted about why lesser people than him was being honored and remembered.  With the arl as an intermediary, he wrote to Celene that he was blessed with beauty, royalty and strength; everything a man may wish for. And yet, like a rich person wishing for more, Cailan thought it was not enough. What good are these, when it seems he would be forgotten by history? Looking at the deeds of his predecessors, is it just that a peerless man like him would, upon his demise, be remembered only as “the man who came after all these great people”? Is it just that lesser people are remembered and endlessly fawned upon; their lives in epics sang over every tavern and obsessed over, while he will be left in obscurity as soon as he was gone? That he would be treated less than people without his looks, his birth, or his power?

Like his subjects, he had worshipped his father-in-law, the hero of River Dane, and thought it great to be raised in his shadow. But the older he got, the more he resented him. He is the king of his country and yet his people loved Loghain more than they do him. They had expressed admiration and reverence toward him, feelings they have never given to him.  He hated it, because he knew that it was because he had not done any feat, like his father in law had done, to be worthy of it.

Through it all, Celene let him rant, sympathized with him, agreeing with every statement, saying that such a man as him should not be doomed to an ignoble fate. He is fated to be great and what feat is greater than achieving peace between their countries? Together, they can rule Thedas and be remembered as their royal birth had given them right to be. 

Amadeus smirked at how cleverly Celene had flattered Cailan by presenting an image of a beautiful empress pining for him and inflaming his ambition by suggesting that he can be an emperor and at last taking his place on the table of the major powers of Thedas. Orlais already had a terrible reputation among Fereldans; they had nothing to lose if she failed, but they gain everything if she succeeded.  

Finally, King Cailan  agreed to forsake Anora, reasoning that his marriage to Celene would heal the breach between their countries. He did not reveal it to his court as he waited for the appropriate time to break faith, but he showed it by not listening to his adviser and father-in-law, openly showing his disfavor to anything Loghain might propose.

When he finished reading them all, Amadeus pondered silently about what he had discovered. He did not know if he should laugh or rage that all this madness had started because one wished to be in a ballad and the history books, one wished for an heir and another wished for a husband. He knew now that Arl Eamon was worried about the barrenness of the throne and never liked Loghain, complaining about his blatant disrespect of the nobility and their traditions revealing his peasant roots. His dislike extended to his daughter. She had done very well as Queen, but as the consort of the King, her main duty is to provide an heir. And she had failed.

it was well known that Empress Celene of Orlais was hounded endlessly by her own subjects to marry. There was not a time that she was flooded with proposals, proposals that were met consistently with rejection. She can give her hand, and the throne of the empire, to none of them, for she feared her favor would only upend the delicate balance of power within her court, encouraging the plotting and counter plotting which may threaten to break the peace and prosperity she strived hard to gain in her reign. She looked abroad for a mate and her attention was drawn to the golden King of Ferelden. Her spies told her he was biddable and not extremely intelligent, which was perfect for her idea of a partner. He who cannot know her plans or how he can interfere with it would be ideal for someone who intends to keep her power to herself. He has a country for his fortune, a country larger than any suitor had presented before. It was also the land her people had been coveting. The only  problem was the wife but fortunately for her, she had an ally ready.

Loghain seems unaware of the plot against his daughter, but he noticed the growing intimacy between him and Orlais, expressing his bitterness loudly as reported by Cailan and Eamon. From here, Amadeus thought that Loghain had construed the king turning his back on him as a betrayal. All this made him start thinking whether to continue serving a fool who accepted his lifetime of service and sacrifice and then replaced him with (what he thought then) a pair of pretty ponies with nary a word of thanks. He had accepted his honor…and then held it cheap. Would he still continue to serve a man like this?

He found he could not.

Loghain is a great ally but a dangerous enemy. With his mind made up, he struck fast, and hard. He plotted for the downfall of those he suspected of leading Cailan to this: Arl Eamon and the Couslands who were the ambassadors to Orlais. Probably he thought nothing good can come out of the Theirin bloodline, and so he conspired to have Cailan killed at Ostagar. Based from what he heard from Elissa, Loghain might have known about Alistair and did not omit Cailan's potential heir, the secret lovechild, from his plan. As for the wardens, Cailan wrote that he objected strenuously at Duncan's arrival. He had never loved the Wardens, saying that they were pawns of Orlais, and so he had plotted to have them all killed with the king. Not only had he rid Ferelden of their treachery, but it had also ensured that King Maric’s other son dies without anyone realizing his importance.

He would have succeeded too but a being of unworldly origin had other plans. Flemeth had borne a scion of his enemy, Alistair included, and flown them to safety on dragon wings. She had kept them safe and so saved the people who would grow to be his bitterest enemies.

When he was finished, Amadeus put the letters back into the box and wondered if he should inform the others about this. Or use it for himself.

He decided to hold onto it a little longer.


	111. Chapter 111

So it was agreed that Anora agreed to let Alistair be King as long as she stays as Queen.

Alistair looked at Mahariel to see what she thought of that. Mahariel sensed him looking at her and glanced at him, still looking just as untroubled as always. It was then that he realized that she may not have understood entirely what was at stake.

His fear was confirmed when at a break, he saw her go to Thorin and asked to be excused from the meetings, saying she doesn’t understand half of what is being talked about, only that the current shemlen leader is unwilling to help them. She added that she could not comprehend why they don’t just kill him. Thorin considered it, thought that the politics may be too much for someone from a simple life and so excused her.

After she left, he immediately went to Thorin. “So you heard from her right? Did you tell her about…what’s going to happen?” he asked the dwarf.

“I was hoping you’d speak to her about it. You and her have a relationship after all.”

He felt a growing sense of dread. “Oh, right. Yes…I’ll go talk to her.”

Thorin peered up at him. “Are you alright?”

He felt embarrassed to talk to him about his relationship, but he had to know something. “Aren’t you bothered by this? Marrying someone when you’re in love with someone else?”

“This is a political marriage. This has nothing to do with love,” he stated.  

“I…see,” he said, remembering that the one he’s talking to is a dwarf and so may not share the same sentiments as a human. “Right. Forget I asked.”

Seeing his reaction, the dwarf wasn’t convinced that he had the confidence to confront her about it. “Do you need my help to explain it to her, Alistair?” he offered gently.

“No!” Alistair answered, horrified at him being involved in his relationship. He became embarrassed further at the thought that he needed someone in his own relationship troubles. Everyone always says that he needed someone else to solve his problems for him, and asking Thorin now…it would have proven that they were right. He is a grown man; he needed to act like one. Such as solving problems on his own.

“Are you sure?”

“I’m sure. I’ll take care of it. Don’t worry,” he said and went away before the dwarf would question him further. But as he walked away from him, he knew that he needed a second opinion on how to explain it to her.

He looked around. Tabris was still in a sad mood, and he didn’t think it right to burden him with his own problems when the elf was having his own. Elissa is nowhere to be seen along with Zevran and he’s embarrassed to tell it to Wynne or Leliana. Brosca would not have helped him much and the others, there’s no one else who can advise him. Except for the one who suggested it in the first place.

As he walked towards his room, he thought about whether he can trust the mage. He was helpful in convincing Thorin and Riordan to give justice to Loghain and yet…was he really on their side? He had never thought of him well before. Why side with him now?

He decided he will have to find out the mage’s motives first before he can ask him about his problem.

It was his lucky day, as he caught the mage in a good mood. He entered his room and the healer looked up from his desk to him and asked “Can I help you?” without the usual sting.

“I wanted to ask you about what happened earlier. About Loghain.”

The mage put away what he was writing and sat still, waiting expectantly. He was staring at him so steadily that he shuffled his feet. “I’m curious.. why do you want him punished?”

The mage leaned back from his seat, gazing at him with a look that he could not interpret. “Is it wrong for me not to want him to?”

“No. It’s just that-”

__You never had good intentions before._ _

“..it’s a bit strange, you know? Like…he had never hurt you personally?”

The mage’s eyes glinted at him. Whether from merriment or something else, he could not say. “You’re wrong on that count. I wish to see Loghain punished as you do.” He tipped his head a little, peering up at him. “Do you know what happened at the Circle?”

Alistair nodded. “Wynne told me something about that.”

“Did she also tell you that it was Loghain’s doing that brought about Uldred’s madness? It was because of him that the Circle was destroyed.”

His mouth parted slightly as he understood it now. “But..you hate the Circle.”

“Yes. But I did not mean that it should be destroyed.” The mage looked away, his gaze pensive and his face sad, and said, “Even though I hated every second that I lived there, the Circle was my home. The mages there were my friends. And he killed them.” He turned back to him with a hard glint in his eyes. “So yes, I want him dead.”

Alistair drew slightly back from the hate in his eyes. “If we work together, he will be,” he assured him.

This was exactly what the mage wanted. He actually does not care about the dead mages, being used to seeing them as bodies on a slab. But he thought it prudent to have a potential king be in his debt.  

He did not show this in his face or manner, of course. After Alistair made his promise, he relaxed and his voice went back into a casual tone. “Is there something else you want to talk about?”

Alistair drew a breath and expelled it. “You see, I’m going to be King and everything right?”

“Yes…?”

The mage doesn’t seem ruffled so this was a good sign. He went on. “And..um…In order to do that, I’m going to marry Anora.”

“That was the plan, yes. ”

“But the thing is…I’m with Mahariel and…I mean, it can’t be fair, can’t it? Me getting married to Anora while I’m still with her?”

 “So your tender conscience doesn’t allow you to share yourself between two women?” Amadeus asked, with a mocking tone now.

“Yes,” he answered, sulking.

“Then tell it to shut up. Why give up one when you can have both?”

“But..it’s not fair,” Alistair protested. “Me and Mahariel-Anora won’t…She’s not going to like it.”

“I think Anora wouldn’t mind. I can’t see why she’d care now, when she had borne Cailan’s infidelities for years and-”

“I am not my brother.”

Amadeus raised a brow at his hard tone and saw that he had changed into someone that is not to be ridiculed with. “Indeed, you are not,’ he said soothingly. “So you have two choices: you give up Anora, give up the throne, give up Ferelden and give up taking revenge on Loghain. Or you give Mahariel up, and you save us all. Now, which is going to be?”

 He made up his mind, but he still has some hesitations. “Can’t you tell her?”

“I’m not the one in a relationship here. I can’t set what you two can and cannot do. And even if I did tell her, I doubt she’d not come to ask you herself,” he said, finally exasperated.

“Alright, alright! Well, thanks, anyway,” he said and went out the room.

He didn’t want to tell her, didn’t want to see her disappointment. But, if he wants to do the right thing, he has to do it himself.

* * *

Alistair asked to speak with Mahariel privately in her room. She let him led her, knowing little of what will happen.

As soon as they were alone, he began to explain that the last meeting involved their relationship. Mahariel shook her head and said, “I don’t see why they should be concerned with us. This is a private matter.”

“Yes. But you do remember that they talked about me being king by marrying Anora, right?” He explained to her what marrying means, similar to the bonding in her clan. As soon as she understood, she became angry. “We are bonded. The arl has no right to part us for his own ends,” she insisted.

“I know but… I have to be king. It’s the only way we can defeat Loghain. I have to marry Anora.”

At the mention of her name, Mahariel narrowed her eyes at him. “You have tired of me, is that it?” she accused. “You were drawn by the charms of this shemlen Queen and now seek an excuse to throw me off!”

“No! It’s not like that. I don’t love Anora. I don’t even like her. But the arl says that we need her to have the support of the people.  And he’s right. The nobility follows her and the people just adores her. We can’t unite Ferelden. Not without her. And I don’t want her to be whispered about. ” He tightened his grip on her hands. “So, you understand, don’t you? We can’t be together. It wouldn’t be fair to her.”

She slapped his hands away and backed off, glaring at him. “I’ll tell you what’s not fair. You care for her honor, but you do not care for my love! You will save her from shame, even if you have to break my heart! What am I to understand from that, except that you care more for her, than you do for me?”

He tried explaining to her that they are Wardens and the taint would not allow them to have a child together. As king, his duty is to provide an heir, which he would likely have one if he had an untainted partner. But she would not hear it; she drew away from him, her hands on her ears as she cried. “Why? Why are you doing this to me?”

He is done. This is getting drawn out. She won’t let go, like the wolf she is. A clean cut is needed, to save them both from the pain.

“Tell me,” she said, her voice breaking. "Tell me that I am dreaming, that you did not just say you will abandon me. That I will wake up and you will say you will always be there with me. Tell me, that you will always love me and you will never be parted from me. Tell me.”

He looked at her, perhaps the last time he can take a look at her face that is still filled with love for him, before it becomes haunted, inscrutable and merciless.

“I’m sorry.”

Mahariel sat silent for a long time. Then with rising venom, she spoke. “You…used me. You said you love me, that I am the only one you want to be with. You…had lain with me. Then, when I am of no use to you anymore, you deny me.”

She faced him then, her face hard. “You….shemlen are all the same. You deny Shartan, you deny the Dales. You deny… me. As I should have known. I was foolish, to listen to you, when I should have remembered a shemlen’s words mean nothing! That you speak as if it is only wind.”

“Don’t say that. I wasn’t lying when I said I loved you. I wasn’t lying-” he reached for her again but she slapped his hands away.

“Enough! I will not listen to you anymore.”

They both fell silent. Mahariel tried to control herself, struggling to contain the sobs that try to escape her. She had thought about their time together and how it had ended up like this. But it seems it was all a lie, and she was a fool to believe it.

As always, there is only one way to deal with humans.

* * *

When Elissa returned to the common room for the meeting, she found them sitting casually around the fireplace.

“What’s going on? Where’s Alistair and Mahariel?” she said, buckling the loose strap on her armor. Zevran followed behind her, rubbing the sore spot on his neck.

Tabris answered her. “Alistair and Mahariel were talking about…you know. Them. It seems Alistair is having a problem with the married-to-the-Queen thing while he’s still with Mahariel.”

“Yes. I was going to talk to Mahariel about that.”

“Well, You’re late. He is already talking to her about that.”

When she heard they had told Alistair to tell Mahariel about the deal, she flipped. “You told Alistair to break up with Mahariel, not go first to explain to Mahariel about the deal so she breaks up with Alistair? Are you mad? This is Mahariel we’re talking about.”

“Oh come on. I know Alistair has a little bit of fluff between his ears, but you really think Alistair will foul it up?”

“I’m not worried he will foul it up. I’m more worried she will foul him up.” Elissa started pacing, wringing her hands.

Zevran was chuckling. “Oh this, I have to see.”

“Oh, you shouldn’t have-Zevran stop it, this is serious-” she paused, took a deep breath, then said slowly “Haven’t you heard the saying the Void is gentler than a woman spurned?”

“I’ve heard of something like that but what does that have to do with-”

“SHE’S GOING TO KILL HIM!”

* * *

They finally burst into the room.

At the center lay Alistair, half sitting, and Mahariel in front of him, her bow drawn, the arrow pointed at his eye.

“Everybody, don’t move,” Thorin said.

Elissa went around him to have a better view of Mahariel. “Mahariel, don’t. If you did that, you’ll regret it.”

“What are ye, nuts? That’s a king, ye crazy she-nug,” Brosca said to the elf girl.

Elissa made a cutting motion at Thorin and he hauled Brosca out.

At the back, the rest were discussing how to stop Mahariel.

“A paralysis…..spell?” Tabris suggested.

Amadeus shook his head. “Paralysis glyph. If I did, she might still release the arrow. Same with hitting her with a cold spell.”

“Can’t you revive Alistair, though?” Neria asked.

“Yes, though I don’t know if he will have brain damage.”

“You mean he hasn’t, already?”

“Not helping, Neria.”

“Alright, alright. A force shield maybe?”

“Yes, that could work. But I need a line of sight, without Mahariel seeing me.”

“Well, let’s look-”

Meanwhile, inside the room, Elissa was pleading for Mahariel to lower her bow. “Mahariel, please listen to me. I know it really hurts to give Alistair up.”

“You know nothing of my pain,” the elf replied, drawing her bow tighter.

“Wait, wait. Please. Do you really want to kill him? Don’t you love him?”

Mahariel stared straight at Alistair’s eyes. “Once. Not anymore.”

“But you still care right? If not for him, then spare him for the Dalish. Please Mahariel. What do you think will happen if you killed him? Humans will not treat the Dalish any better since one of them killed their king. Worse, they’ll be driven out. Please, Mahariel, you’re better than this. Don’t let one human doom your people.”

Mahariel thought back towards the past, when Tamlen was alive and before she got tainted and all this craziness happened. She thought she left the guilt back at the Brecillian forest. The guilt that, if she hadn’t killed those humans, her clan would not have fled for strange lands, probably with more shemlen. True, the Blight would’ve had made them flee, but halla can only run so far. They would have joined in the fight and she would still be with them.  

“For the Dalish,” she said, lowering her bow. Then she turned and walked out of the room, her fellow wardens parting the way for her.

Elissa saw her go out of sight and breathed a sigh of relief. Then she turned to Alistair, who had slumped, his head down, and knelt beside him. “Are you alright?” she asked him gently.

“I’m fine..fine as anyone whose lover just tried to kill him.”

Zevran tried to comfort him, in his typical cheery way. “Ah my dear Alistair, in Antiva, killing your lover is quite-”

His lover looks ready to kill him so he busied himself with looking at the wallpaper.

It was a while before Alistair spoke up again. “I’m going to do something like that again, right? And again? Something that will make a lot of people happy, but not me.”

“It gets easier,” Thorin said, returning now that the crisis had passed.  

“I never wanted this. I only wanted to be happy but now..”

Elissa knelt beside him. “I know, ruling a country is hard. Being king is hard. Bearing the responsibility of other people’s lives is hard. But we will be there with you. And we…we will be kind to you.”


	112. Chapter 112

 The Landsmeet finally started and they went to the palace as part of Arl Eamon's entourage. Before they entered the chamber, Cauthrien suddenly appeared and blocked their way to the chamber. “Warden, I am not surprised it has come to this,” she said to Thorin who just stared her down so she turned to Alistair.  “And Alistair, if you were remotely worthy of being called King Maric’s son, you would already be in the Landsmeet, wouldn’t you?”

“Is there something you need to say to us?” Thorin asked, his tone brittle while the arl frowned at the uppity lackey for having the presumption to address a prince that way.

“You have torn Ferelden apart to oppose the very man who ensured you were born into freedom. But do not think you can get past me to desecrate the Landmeet itself. The nobles of Ferelden will confirm my lord as regent and we can finally put this to rest once you are gone,” she said pompously.

Elissa tapped Thorin’s shoulder and gave him look to let her handle it. She stepped forward. “Cauthrien, surely you cannot ignore that Loghain has not been acting as himself lately,” she said, not accusing, but sounding genuinely concerned. “If Loghain is as the hero you say he is, he should not have abandoned our king and army to die in Ostagar. We also wish to save Ferelden, but Loghain is not willing to work with us. I'm sure he has reasons for that and all of this is an unfortunate understanding. But don’t you see he needs to understand what he looks right now?”

At her words, the haughtiness fell a bit off Cauthrien’s face. Her lip trembled and her brow drawn in confusion as she struggled between truth and her loyalty. “I have had so many doubts of late,” she finally admitted. “Loghain is a great man but his hatred of Orlais drove him to madness. He has done terrible things. I know it but I owe him everything. I cannot betray him, do not ask me to.” She knelt in front of them. “Stop him Warden. Stop him from betraying everything he once loved,” she begged. “Please, show mercy. Without Loghain, there would be no Ferelden to defend.”

“Of course. We only aimed to rid him of foolish notions Howe might have told him. It was also planned that Alistair will marry Anora. We will never demand Loghain's death on the day of his daughter’s engagement. So please, Ser Cauthrien, stand up and don’t worry.”

Cuathrien smiled, comforted, stood up and let them pass. When they were out of earshot, Thorin turned to her. “What was that? Is there a change of plan?”

“It will go as planned,” she said confidently.

They then entered the chamber. It was crowded on both sides of nobles, some arguing passionately against each other so that not even their appearance did much to silence it. They reached the dais with Arl Eamon and waited for the arrival of their enemy.

Suddenly, a hush traveled through the crowd as Loghain Mac Tir, Teyrn of Gwaren, Hero of River Dane arrived.

He is a dark-haired sallow faced man, with thin plain features and a grim expression. He is tall and fit, his stride showing no infirmity despite his age, and his presence commanding. Everyone cannot help but harken to his snarling but imperious voice.

Except for Thorin, they all felt like puppies barking at a great warhound.

As he took his position opposite them, Arl Eamon started addressing the assembly. “My Lords and Ladies of the Landsmeet, Teyrn Loghain would have us give up our freedom, our traditions out of fear. He placed us on this path yet we should place our destiny in his hands? Must we sacrifice everything good about our nation to save it?”

Loghain started clapping, slowly, mockingly as he stepped forward. “A fine performance, Eamon, but no one is taken in by it,” he snarled. “You intend to put a puppet on the throne and everyone here knows it. Everyone asks “Who will pull the strings?” He turned to Thorin and pretended to be surprised. “Aha! Here is our puppeteer!,” he exclaimed. “Tell us, wardens, how will the Orlesians take out nations from us? Will they deign to send their troops or simply issue commands to their would-be prince?”

Thorin looked at Elissa and she nodded.

“What did they offer you? How much is the price of Ferelden honor now?”

Elissa walked forward and looked at the assembled Lords and Ladies. She looked them in the eye and silently reminded them who she is: the scion of a great house, a noble like them, the daughter of the heroes against the occupation and the only survivor of a cowardly attack by one whose family had always betrayed Ferelden. She is a loyal daughter of Ferelden and she would let it be known.

Never before had they seen a beauty so tragic as she. 

“You forget that it is your crime which led us here,” she said, turning to Loghain, her voice steady and clear. “There is no one here who can deny what you did in Ostagar.”

The nobles murmured among themselves and some of them demanded the truth.

“My crime?” Loghain answered. “It is your doing that led King Cailan to his death, with your grandiose tales of griffons flying in battle.”

“Our order is created to end Blights as we all know. It is not merely a fable told to entertain children, for we can all see that the darkspawn are real. We have lost enough of our people, our parents, brothers and sisters without the help of the Wardens, those you thought to be delusions,” she replied. “Our King and our soldiers have fought bravely to stop the horde, but it is your retreat that sealed their fate. Why? Is it not the duty of a soldier to serve their king above all, or am I wrong? Do the oaths of service not binding and so discarded on a whim? Do Fereldens pride themselves on their loyalty or is it merely a boast?”

The nobles murmured angrily, not wanted to be compared to Orlesians whose fickleness is their trade.

“Do Fereldens betray their countrymen in times of trouble? Yet this man sells his brethen to fund his war!” she said, pointing at Loghain. “He has sold elves to Tevinters for gold. And we have proof.” She presented Caladrius papers’ Tabris had fished from the dead man’s pockets. She handed it to Arl Eamon, who showed it to the nobles and they saw that the seal and signature is truly Loghain’s.

“There is no slavery in Ferelden,” Arl Bryland said angrily to Loghain. “Explain yourself!”

Loghain did not look so confident as before. “There is no saving the alienage. Damage from the riots has yet to be repaired. Bodies still rot in its streets,” he fumbled. When they murmured angrily at his weak explanation, he added, “It was not a place I would wish to send even my worst enemy, more so hold the Blight. I have done my duty. Whatever my regrets for the elves, I have done what was needed for the good of Ferelden.”

"So you admit that it is part of your duty to sell your own people," she said. Elissa did not let him explain further or try to counterattack. She pounced on him with his next crime. “And what about poisoning a fellow noble, Arl Eamon, by sending an apostate? Do you hold regrets over it or is it part of your duty?”

Loghain looked at her with scorn. “I assure you, if I am going to send someone, It would be my own soldiers. I would not trust to the discretion of an apostate.”

"So you would kill your fellow nobles?”

As Loghain glared at her, Eamon stepped in and said, “We have the apostate in our custody. He has sworn and signed a confession regarding your involvement to the threat on my life.” He read the contents of the letter.

“What the apostate had written is the truth!” a voice rang out. Bann Alfstanna leaned forward from the balcony above them. “My brother, a templar in the service of our Maker, has returned to me from the dungeons of your servant the deceased Arl Howe. He tells me that you have snatched a blood mage and a fugitive and stopped the templars in imposing justice.”

Before Loghain can answer, he was interrupted by the the Grand Cleric of Denerim. “Do not think the Chantry will overlook this, Teyrn Loghain,” she said gravely. “Interference in templar duties is an offense against the Maker.”

“Whatever I have done, I will answer for later,” he said, waving her off, showing his low opinion of pious, old women. Unfortunately for him, their audience did not share his sentiment. “For the moment, I wish to know what the warden has done with my daughter. You took my daughter-the queen-by killing her guards. Where is she? Why do you not release her?”

“I believe I can speak for myself.” Anora stepped from behind them and faced the assembly. “Lords and Ladies of Ferelden, hear me. My Father is no longer the man you know. This man is not the hero of River Dane.” She told them that he had abandoned Cailan to die, seized his throne and locked her away to prevent her revealing his crimes. “I would already be killed, if not for the Grey Wardens,” she finished, turning a grateful face to Elissa.

Loghain looked at her in shock. “So even they poisoned your mind, Anora? I want to protect you from this,” he said softly. But this was not heard, for the shouting became louder until it threatened to blow off the walls. He raised his voice and wrestled them into hearing him. “Our land has been threatened before. Invaded before. It will never be conquered if we are united. So we must not be divided at this time here. Stand with me against the blight, and we shall have victory.”

Elissa stepped forward and addressed them. “Lords and Ladies of Ferelden, stand with the Wardens. We who have fought for our freedom should never be ruled by a tyrant, who forsakes his oath of loyalty to his king, endangers the lives of our citizens, sell our people to slavery and disrupts the work of our Maker. We are a free people. Never shall we submit; to him nor to the Archdemon. We shall prevail, if we stand together. With the Grey Wardens.”

Arl Eamon announced the start of the vote. “We shall cast our votes and see what the Landsmeet rules.”

The nobles started casting their votes. South Reach, Waking Sea, Dragon’s Peak had voted for the Wardens. Arl Wulff and few others threw in their lot to Arl Loghain. In the end, his crimes were too great for forgiveness and he lost.

Loghain fumed when he saw the results and glared at his peers. “Traitors! Which of you stood against the Orlesian emperor when his troops flattened your fields and raped your wives?” he raged at them. He turned to Arl Eamon and pointed at him. “You fought for us once. Before you grow old and fat and content to even see what you risk,” he spat at him then turned back to addressing the assembly. “"None of you deserve a say in what happens here. None of you has spilled blood than I have. How dare you judge me.”

"Teyrn Loghain, you have lost,” Elissa proclaimed. “Stand down, and accept the ruling of the Landsmeet.”

Loghain glowered at her. “You say you are the best hope of Ferelden? Then prove it. Show that you are better than the one who has once saved this country and will again.” He pointed at them. “I challenge the Wardens to a duel. Let us end this once and for all.”

They looked to Arl Eamon, unsure if the loser can make demands from them.

“The Landsmeet shall not end in dishonor. Wardens, do you accept?” Arl Eamon asked them.

Elissa gave a look a Thorin, who understood it, and raised his brow slightly in surprise. He did not expect this turn of events but he do wish for this to end.

"Will you face me yourself?” Loghain demanded at her. "Or have you a champion?"

“Thorin shall fight you on our behalf,” Elissa said, and motioned for him to come forward.

“Let the Landsmeet declare the terms of the duel," Arl Eamon announced.

As Arl Eamon dictated the terms of the duel, Thorin weighed his options. There was no one else they can trust to fight a veteran than Loghain. Most of them were too inexperienced to handle someone as wily as him. But still, he is in the disadvantage. In terms of reach, Loghain has the upper hand. If he has a chance to defeat him, then he needed to tire him out and wait for his chance.

But as soon as the duel started, Loghain aggressively pressed on to attack, not letting him have a breath. He encouraged it, circling him, even as Loghain taunted him for running away. “And this is the one you entrust your lives to! Someone who runs away like a coward,” he jeered. He jabbed low at him but Thorin knocked it away and swung. Loghain stepped back, then continued the assault. He kept him away though his jabs and thrusts. Try as he might, he could not get inside his reach to land a hit.

Then Loghain made a fast overhead thrust, slipping past his shield and driving into his shoulder. He put his shield up, lifting it off and stepped out of reach. His shield dropped a little, but he steeled his arm even though it made the blood flow faster, because Loghain came striking to his side and then low. He parried them all, waiting for the inevitable.   

There, his movements were slowing. As Loghain swung his sword, he charged forward. But it was a feint, as the sword returned low to swipe at his leg. He expected that and turned his shield to catch it. It was then that the shield slammed into him and knocked him back. As he stumbled back, Loghain thrust forward, low, side, side, overhead, blood splattering, coming nearer-

“What?” Loghain said in surprise as the ax hooked on his sword arm,  tangling in its bands.

Before Loghain can drew his arm back,  he pulled him close and thrust his shield forward as Loghain raised his to block. But he did not slam his shield into his; he tipped the edge of his shield against his and, his ax pulling while he pushed, sending the bigger man over him and onto the floor.

Loghain’s breath was knocked out of him as he sprawled. Then he felt a weight on his arm and his shield was kicked away. The dwarf was standing above him, bleeding, breathing heavily, but his ax was at his throat.

Loghain looked at him, look at the faces peering down at him. He closed his eyes and accepted that he was not favored to save his country. “I yield.”

Thorin let him go. He stepped away from him, walking backwards to his own group, watching as the former hero rose to his knees and stood, no longer tall and proud. He felt  magic heal him as he watched the regent hand off his weapons and shield and awaited his fate.

Elissa walked forward and turned to Alistair. “As the victor, what verdict shall you give to him?” she asked him, establishing in one scene that the Wardens follow the order of the king. She asked even if she knew what he would say because she knew  what it would present: treason meant death and the new king will be ruthless to his enemies.

Alistair was surprised to be asked, but he steeled himself when everyone turned to him for his answer. “He shall be executed, for his crimes at Ostagar and against this country.”

“NO!” Anora cried, knowing then at the last second that she could not bear to see her father to die, no matter the consequences. “There is another way. Put him through the Joining. It is fatal, is it not? If he lives through it, you have another. If he dies, you will have your revenge. Does that not satisfy you?”

Instead of answering her, Elissa looked at Alistair, even as she knew what he would answer. “No,” he said to Anora. Anora put her hands to her face and wept.

Loghain turned to Thorin, without hate but with respect. “Just make it quick Warden. I can face the Maker knowing that Ferelden is in your hands,” he said, weary at last.

Thorin was handed a broadsword as Loghain took off his armor. He stepped forward, gripping the sword tightly with both hands and stood beside Loghain who knelt before them. He raised the sword to his neck. “Any last words?” he asked.

Loghain looked at the crowd. “I have served this country faithfully and would gladly die to protect it. I have given and done much to save it. No man can claim to have done more. Even so, it does not owe me loyalty,” he said sadly. He happened to glance at Thorin and was surprised to see that he understood. Of all the people around him, it was his rival that knew him the most.

“I…see.,” he said, dropping his gaze then lifting it up to him. “I am grateful that I will die by your hand, Warden,” he said to him then turning to look at Alistair, his last gaze on the one with the face of his former friend. “I am glad that I shall not be slain by a child playing at war, by men who do not know the meaning of sacrifice.”

 The sword swung and he spoke no more.

Here lies Loghain Mac Tir, Hero of River Dane, savior of Maric, lover of Rowan, betrayer of Cailan, by pride triumphed and by pride betrayed.

Anora slipped her cloak off and covered her father’s body, weeping. But she wiped her eyes dry and turned to them, asking about their plans.

“We must turn our attention forward,” Arl Eamon answered for them all. He looked at the silent crowd then at Alistair. “Alistair, will you accept your father’s legacy and lead Ferelden in our time of need?”

“Well I did say that-I mean I did…swear an oath," he stammered. "But what I mean is-I’m all for continuing my father’ legacy but there’s the blight and..you know.”

“What he meant to say is he cannot in good conscience claim any title or honor until the darkspawn are defeated,” Elissa interceded and Alistair nodded at her. “ He shall claim the throne only after he saves his country from the Archdemon.”

Anora gave a hard look at Elissa. “I hope you deliver on your promises, Warden.”

Elissa nodded and continued. “He shall not rule alone. He shall be wed to Queen Anora, who has ruled over this country in peace and saw us through these difficult times. Together they shall lead Ferelden, moving forward from the darkness of the past and into a new era, with forgiveness, liberty and prosperity.”

Alistair looked at Anora and she nodded. They walked forward together and presented themselves to the assembly side by side. “My lords and Ladies, your king shall take the field with the Wardens to do battle with the Archdemon,” Anora said, speaking for them both, being the better orator. “I shall rule in the absence of my husband as I did with Cailan. But I believe that this time, Alistair and the Wardens shall give us a heroic ending.”

The crowd cheered and applauded at their new rulers. Elissa gave a look at Alistair and motioned for him to encourage them.

“Everyone, get ready to march!” he shouted, his voice loud and clear. “It will take all of Ferelden’s strength to survive the Blight. But we will face it! And we will defeat it.”

* * *

 After the Landsmeet, they went back to the estate. as they walked the streets, it seems an ordinary day to the citizens of Denerim, even after a major victory, for the same mundane activities were happening. There were no celebrations; people are buying in the market, children are playing in the streets, the same sisters were chanting in the corner and a seller was calling for customers, saying in a great deep voice, “Dwarven crafts! Fine dwarven crafts! you won’t find any better.”

Thorin stopped in his tracks when he heard it. That voice, a voice that echoes throughout a battlefield. He could never mistake it for anyone else’s. “Gorim?”

The seller stopped and looked around to the one calling his name. His eyes widened as he recognized his former lord. “My Lord Aeducan?,” he gasped. “Is that…is that really you?”

“Gorim!” He went to embrace him. Gorim was also happy to meet him. They parted and Gorim rapped his shoulder. “I knew you’d survive. I never stopped believing it,” he said.

“How have you been?”

“Never better. I was lucky enough to get a job like as this without losing my life as a mercenary, as so many exiles often did.” He gestured to his stall, where they saw quality armors and weapons. “I am happy than I ever been.”

Thorin did not look at his ware with the same pride as he did. Gorim, his loyal and faithful second, unmatched in bravery in battle and honor in conduct. He cannot believe that the proud warrior he knew was now a mere merchant, selling wares like a commoner and happy about it, when back at Orzammar, he was given the greatest honors and people bowed their heads before him as they passed. But he checked, when he remembered there is no such thing now as honor nor dignity.

“How are you, my lord? How did you escape?”

Thorin told him about meeting Duncan in the Deep Roads, him being a grey warden and now gathering forces against the Blight. “We are on a quest to save the world.” His gaze lingered at the stall once more and he added, “If you wish, you can come join us. It will be like the old days.”

But Gorim hesitated and did not immediately accept his offer as he expected. “It would be an honor, my lord. But will you give me leave to say goodbye to my family first?”

“Family? Your parents followed you here?”

“No. I…had married into a surface family. My wife is the daughter of the best smith in Denerim. We’re expecting our first born in spring. Before I join you, please excuse me to arrange matters for their safety.”

He knew then that much as he had wished Gorim to be with him, he could not take him away from the people who needed him most. He smiled sadly and patted his shoulder.“Please forget what I said. Go, save your family. Do not worry about us. The Blight has torn too many families apart and taken so much of those we care about, that I will not let yours join that fate.”

“Are you sure?”

He nodded. “It will be alright. I have a great team with me, the best that I could ever wish for,” he said, turning aside to let his old friend see the team that he had assembled. Gorim saw them, smiled, and said, “ You have chosen well. Then, may the ancestors guide you to victory.”


	113. Chapter 113

A few days later, they had returned to Redcliffe after reports that the darkspawn horde had broken out of the Wilds. Riordan went ahead to scout and when they arrived, he met them with grave news. They convened a meeting immediately to discuss their preparations for the coming battle.

"The bulk of the horde is heading here. They will be at the the gates within the week," the Orlesian informed them.

"Are you sure?" Thorin asked.

Riordan hesitated, glanced at Eamon and then gave them a look. "I am quite certain," he said simply and by his demeanor, told, to the non-wardens not to question him how he knew, and to the wardens, that they knew how he knew it.

Arl Eamon was confused by the secrecy but did not question him further. “Anything else?”

"There is, I'm afraid one other piece of news that is of even greater concern. The Archdemon has shown itself. The dragon is at the head of the horde."

The room went silent. Even when they knew they were nearing the end, still they could not believe that it is happening now.

“Now that the Archdemon is here,” Thorin said to Riordan, breaking the silence, “I’m quite curious how the wardens of old had killed them. I want to know strategies, tactics or behaviors that can help us. I assume the Wardens have compiled their knowledge from the four Blights?”

Riordan looked at him as if he were mad. Then he turned to all of them, looking at them one by one, meeting only blank and expectant faces. “You…didn't know? Didn’t Duncan tell you how Archdemons die?”

“We barely knew Duncan. They got killed just days after our Joining. He didn’t tell us much about our order,” Thorin answered. He looked at Alistair and the ex-templar added, "He told me only the basics. But not much else, I'm afraid."

“So you don’t know,” Riordan said and put his hands to his face and groaned. “Oh, Maker, to know that all these lives depend on people who know nothing-”

“We did our best with what we’ve got,” Thorin replied defensively.

“I’m sorry. I did not intend to demean your efforts.” Riordan looked at Arl Eamon and the other companions. “I wish to speak privately to my fellow Wardens. Please, if you would  excuse us?”

Arl Eamon frowned, but he knew that Wardens were known to keep their secrets close and did as he asked. He asked the other companions to join him and led them out. When they were gone, Riordan turned to them and explained why a Grey Warden and only a warden, can kill an Archdemon.

Slain by anyone other than a Grey Warden, the Archdemon’s soul travels to the next darkspawn through the taint and remains immortal as long as there is a Blight and there are soulless vessels nearby. But a Grey Warden, carrying the same taint, can lure it to their own body, where it will clash with their own soul and so be finally destroyed, along with the Grey Warden. 

“Without the Archdemon, the Blight ends. It is the only way,” Riordan declared and saw only their pale faces as his answer. “In Blights past, when the time came the eldest of the Grey Wardens would decide which amongst them would take that final blow.” He looked around and found sorrow so deep, that he almost regretted telling them this. But it must be done. The Blight must end. “But enough. There will be much to do tomorrow and little enough time to rest before it. I will leave you to ponder this on your own," he said, and left, feeling that his absence is the only mercy he could give them.

* * *

“Hey”

Ogrhen stopped polishing his armor and looked around. He found Tabris at the door to his quarters. He dopped the armor he's been fixing to pass the time and turned to the elf.

“What is it?” he greeted the elf, relieved that they had at last finished their meeting. “Are we going to go fight now? I’ve been bored out of my mind being cooped up in here,” he said and yawned. 

“No. I want to ask you if we can  get your strongest drinks?”

Oghren started chuckling. “Why? Are we celebrating? Did the boss finally found out Brosca’s his brother now?”

But the elf did not join in his mirth. His face was as grave as ever. “No. I…I can’t tell you. Warden business. I’m sorry.”

He walked forward to the elf and put his arm around him. “Come on,” he cajoled. “You can tell me. I can finally have someone to drink with.”

Tabris shook his head. “I’m sorry Oghren. It’s just for us Wardens.”

The dwarf looked closely at the elf. He was pale, but the anger he carried about his father was gone, replaced with something akin to bone-crushing despair.

“Alright. I’ll see what I have,” he said, tapping his shoulder and released him. He went to his chest where he had stocked his brews and rummaged around.  After a while, he held aloft one jar. He wiped it with his other hand and peered at his writings. He then shrugged and told Tabris that it was fit for consumption of non-dwarves and handed it to him. “On the house.”

Tabris took it. “Thanks, Oghen. I’ll repay you. Or….maybe Brosca will. One of us will.”

He looks about to cry and Oghren was not here for the mushy stuff. He waved his hands and pretended he did not see. “Forget it. Just enjoy it, will you?”

Tabris took the bottle back to them, meeting with Brosca on the way who was carrying mugs and tankards. “Oghren’s brew. I think we all need it,” he announced as he entered. No one replied. Tabris opened the bottle and poured them all a cup. No one reached for it or looked at it, so Neria took hers. She sipped at it, gasped and coughed then said “I want more” as she gulped at it.

“Don’t choke on it Neria. We’re not ready to let you go yet,” Tabris said as she coughed again.

They drank in silence, except the occasional coughing and gasping.

“I can’t believe it. We’ve given everything and yet…one of us still needs to die.” Tabris said, his head bowed, as he stared at his half-empty mug.

Thorin couldn’t give a good answer so he just took a swig.

“Hey, laddie. Ye can bring someone back, don’t ye?” Brosca asked hopefully at Amadeus.

The mage stayed silent.

“Ye deaf?”

“Stop pestering me. I’ve never revived anyone killed by Archdemon before.”

“Take that as a no,” Thorin said. It would be better to assume the worst and be surprised than go with hope and be disappointed.

They continued drinking in silence.

“So this is it, isn’t it?” Elissa said, softly.

Thorin looked at them all, and thought that they should not face the end with a heavy heart.

* * *

Later, when they were about to retire for the night, Tabris heard someone knocking and opened the door of his room where he found Thorin outside.

“Get dressed. We’re having a party,” said the dwarf.

Tabris frowned at him.“This is not funny, Thorin.”

“It’s not a fun party.”

“Then what?”

“Depends on how you make of it.”

And so he found himself dressed in his best and entered the dining room.

The room was decorated somberly, not brightly enough for a gala, but not dour enough for a funeral. The table was laden with fine foods and drink, but he had no appetite to enjoy it.

“Get seated so we can start,” Thorin said, as he ushered him to his chair.

He seated himself, and from the looks of his companions, they were as puzzled as he is. They must also have thought their leader has finally cracked.

“No, I’m not crazy,” Thorin said, catching the look they exchanged among themselves. He waved his hand as he said, “Eat.”

They looked at him. “Thorin…why are we here?” Elissa asked.

“Eat so you can have something to do as I make my speech.”

With uncertain hands, they made the motion of eating and drinking.

“So, you’re wondering why I brought you all here when we should be making final preparations. You all know, that at least one of us may be dead after tomorrow. It may be me, or any one of us. or all of us, if we are unlucky. But the truth is…I didn’t want to leave without all of you, knowing how I feel about each of you, and…to say goodbye.” He paused as they looked at him, understanding now what he was trying to do. “It may not well be me who kills the Archdemon, but I will not let any of you die without telling you how I truly felt about you. It’s selfish, I know, to ask you of this, as you’d maybe chose to spend the time you have left with the one you love.”

“We don’t mind,” Elissa said, and all of them nodded or murmured their agreement.

“So, who to start, Alistair.”

The ex-templar sat up straight in his seat.

“Ah, the stable boy. And now, king. It was hard work taking you here, and you’ve certainly given me your share of headaches, but it was worth it, seeing you grow into the man you were meant to be. The best man that you can be. I’m proud of you, and remember that it is up to you now. The fate of Ferelden is now in your hands. I know you can rule it wisely, because you can give kindness to the poor, mercy to the ill-fated, and justice to the wicked. Do not fail me.”

Alistair nodded. “I won’t,” he vowed.

He turned to the noblewoman, the one whose importance was only felt when she was gone. “Elissa, I never really said my appreciation of what you do. You were always there for us, mediating between our quarrels and binding our allies to our cause. You do it so well and without asking to be thanked, but we didn’t realize that you also need to be supported. I’m sorry, for not helping you as I should.”

“It’s alright. It worked for the best, didn’t it?”

Thorin looked at her, wondering if what she is now and what she had gone through is worth the sacrifice of her former self. “Your compassion smoothed the way which force can’t. You softened violence and made us all work together. I am grateful, for all the things you have done, and I hope that your life is as fulfilled as you wish it to be.”

Elissa nodded, too overcome with her feelings to trust herself to speak.

He turned to Mahariel. “I thank you for your skill, your patience and your determination to see us through. We would not have made it this far without you. I am grateful, that you chose to fight with us despite not being elven.

Mahariel nodded. “It was for the good of the clan and…you are my clan,” she answered, smiling, her eyes softer now as she looked at the people she now considers her home.

Thorin moved on to Neria. She was gazing up at him with eyes that, despite their ferocity, possessed a surprising innocence. Innocence that should have been destroyed by this war and the suffering they had witnessed.  “Neria, I wanted, I’m sorry. I should not have let you see these terrible things and kept you safe. You should be enjoying your youth as well as the freedom denied to you. And yet I have let you fight with us and still asking you to lend us your power. Please…forgive me.”

Neria looked at him with confusion and shook her head. “It’s alright. I want to be with all of you.”

Thorin smiled at her sadly, knowing that she did not understand what he was asking; that she did not know that he had robbed her of her childhood. This is a penance he now bears and if they both survive…sooner or later, she will know and he will pay for it. Even so, he felt no regrets.

He turned towards Amadeus, who had leaned back in his chair, peering at him and with his arms crossed loosely against his chest. “Amadeus, thank you for everything you’ve done. Your intelligence and your determination to get back up despite loss inspire me to keep us all going. I could not wish for any better companion and so I wish you well, wherever you may be.”

Amadeus dropped his eyes, but said he was also grateful to him, without sarcasm or malice.

He turned to the city elf, who looked less the sunny man they can count on, wracked with grief about the loss of his father and his inability to save him. “Tabris. thank you for the smiles and the jokes. You always look on with a smile on your face, and inspire us to go on, making us feel every day that there are still good things to hope for.”

Tabris only nodded and so he turned to Brosca. He took a moment to wonder how he changed. How they both had changed. Brosca was looking at him not with resentment as before, but with compassion and he needed that now, more than ever.  “We started on the wrong foot. I wish I tried to know you better earlier and I curse at my prejudice for shunning you for so long. We had our differences and it was not resolved as I want it to be. But still, it is done and I bear you no ill will for fighting for your beliefs. But know that I am proud to know you.”

“Nah, it’s all in the past now, ” Brosca answered, with a wave of his hand. “And amma let it stay there. You should too, Boss.”

Thorin nodded and he looked ahead. He looked at them all, all as one, rallying them to their challenge ahead. “The blight has taken much from us. But it will not take our defeat. We will fight until the bitter end, even if it’s the last thing we do.” He raised his glass to toast them all. “Here’s to all of us. Here’s to each other. Here’s to the Grey Wardens.”

“The Grey Wardens,” they echoed. Whatever quarrels they have, whatever they thought of each other, they all knew that there is no one else they’d have by their side as they faced the end.

* * *

Later, as the Warden retired to rest and opened the door to the room. Inside, the Witch was waiting for him. “Morrigan?”

* * *

The next day, Arl Eamon woke up to a cloudy dawn. The people are already up and running preparing for the arrival of the Archdemon. The Dalish have arrived with their warriors and their archers, helping the humans fashion a giant bow that they can mount on the walls. At the courtyard, mages came trickling in, joining their brethren practicing their spells while the dwarves beside them do drills. More are coming each day, and everyone, regardless of race or class, cooperated with each other strengthening the castle’s defenses.

He found Thorin at the courtyard talking with Amadeus, Morrigan, and Mahariel about guiding the stragglers to the castle and scouting the positions of their enemy. They nodded; Amadeus and Morrigan jumped up and two birds flew up into the sky, the raven heading to Orzammar and the falcon heading to the tower. Mahariel whistled and a wild hart cantered to her side. She mounted on it, saddle-less and bridle-less, where, with a kick, it whinnied and galloped out of the gate.

The remaining wardens at his side helped in the preparations or participated in the drills. When they next met him, he could not help but feel surprised how they have changed. But somehow, despite how different they look from each other, despite coming from different races and with different backgrounds; their faces were young, naive or experienced; when they look at him, he felt that they were all one and the same. There was the same determination in their eyes, the steel in their words and the fire of their hearts that make them indistinguishable from each other and truly separates them from everyone else.

A Warden.

For all of them had known loss. All of them had been dragged into the depths of suffering, thrown into the cold fire of Misery, hammered and beaten until they were purged of the dross of their mortal affliction. Family. Friendship. Love. Ideals. Sanity. Dreams. And Faith, until they were stripped to their core and cooled by their tears of grief. Then Loss had bonded them, until all that is left, all that is necessary, was shaped into a blade, of strength unbreakable, and of will indomitable.

To slay a god-

-and save the world.

* * *

At one of the breaks on their drills, Zevran walked to the bench and seated himself beside Brosca. They sat silently for a while, wiping their sweat from their face and looking over the people still practicing before them.

“If you would indulge me, my dear Warden,” Zevran said.

“Aye, whaddya wanna know?” Brosca replied, without turning away from the drills.

“It seems to be very long ago when we first met, no?”

The dwarf just grunted.

“And now that we are nearing the end of our journey, I find myself wondering, why did you spare me? You certainly did not care for my good looks as you claimed to be when you put me in front of your leader.” 

Brosca finally turned to him. “That’s what’s botherin ye?”

Zevran shrugged. “It seems very strange to me, that someone as ruthless as you would spare someone like me, who had just tried to kill you.”

The dwarf was quiet for a long time. He turned back at looking at the drills. Zevran waited, and waited, and waited, until he understood that the dwarf was not going to answer. He was going to go away until he said, “It’s yer face.”

“My face?” Zevran asked in surprise. He smiled, amused, and with the old slyness returning, he teased him. “Why, is it too handsome for you to destroy? Or are you interested in me after all? Why did you keep quiet about this for a long time? We could have had fun with each other a long ago.”

“Nah. Donna go pushin yer luck. Dudes ain’t my type.”

“That hurts my feelings but I will survive. Please enlighten me, because I am feeling very disappointed right now that I think I am going to cry.”

Brosca wiped his brow with the towel before replying. “From where I come from, ye get the jump a lot so ye gotta know to fight just to live. So when ye fight, ye know if the guy yer fighting just wants to kill ye, or just want to get yer money.” He peered up at him, with an intelligence Zevran did not expect from his puggish and well-beaten face. “Yer not one of dem. Ye gotta look on yer face that says “please smash this face with the best ye got til am dead and me mother ain’t gonna know me.”

It was the elf’s turn to be quiet for a long time. “So you spared me…because you know I wanted to die? Because you pitied me?”

“I didna say I pity ye. I just didna wipe yer guts off me blade. Waste of bloody time.”

The elf stood up. “Well, I am glad I am no longer puzzled.” He looked down at the dwarf with the respect that came from finally understanding each other. “You really are ruthless, no?”

“Ye got that right.”

* * *

Riordan walked up to the battlements and stood beside Thorin as they surveyed their army training below them. The sky was overcast, but the wind was blowing gently, the birds whirling above them merrily and without care. Today was like any other day, the world running on as usual, but they knew that soon, it will be the end.

 “The other wardens in Orlais sent word that they are coming,” Riordan reported. It will take time to renegotiate the Empress’ offer of chevaliers and so with the allies brought by their treaties, they hoped it would be enough.

 Thorin nodded, and looked down to their people and to the moving spots on the distance which could only be their enemy. They had fortified the castle and put the civilians inside while the fighters were spread out in the courtyard. They had hoped, by concentrating the people in one area, to lure the archdemon here rather than anywhere. For there was ballista hidden at the battlements, only waiting for the Archdemon. The darkspawn at the walls have been increasing, day by day, but they had enough stones to hurl without emptying their arrows.  The horde was still numerous, more arriving daily but they were moving around with no coordination and no judgment. It was easy to pick them off one by one.

But so far, the Archdemon had refused to appear. Thorin hoped it would stay away for a while longer, while their reinforcements had not arrived.

Then at the distance, he spotted two birds flying fast towards them.  He felt a growing sense of dread, as the birds dropped to his side and Amadeus and Morrigan appeared.

“The Archdemon is coming,” the mage said breathlessly.

“Then we ran out of time,” Thorin said. “We need to tell everyone to get ready,” he added and motioned for the two to follow him. Riordan called for the man near them. The man nodded and ran to the edge and blew his horn, announcing to everyone that the battle has now started.

The castle was filled with calls for positions, weapons or armor. The archers ran to the battlements and nocked their bows. The warriors below formed lines while the mages behind them stood ready. Each of them gripped their weapon tightly, their fear choking on their throat but still they stood on, praying to the Maker, for anyone, to save them.

Thorin gathered his wardens and they looked at the horizon to look for their enemy. At last, they saw a huge dark spot moving towards them, becoming bigger and bigger. They heard it cry and rally the horde below, who yelled and began moving up the castle.

Thorin raised up a great cry and all of them followed him, desperately hoping that the Archdemon hear them and come towards them. And come it did. It approached them until they could see the great long fangs sticking out its mouth, the mottled and ruined hide of dark purple, the wide wings blotting out the sun and the great big eyes, cloudy with malice and madness.

They unveiled the ballista to greet it.

But somewhere on its blighted mind, it remembered a city where humans worshipped it, gave it offerings, secrets, and wishes. All of this it remembered and so it turned to go north.

Their yells faltered when they saw it only fly over them without stopping, taking the horde with it, turning and heading to the nearest city it can reach.

Denerim.


	114. Chapter 114

They had arrived too late. Denerim was in ruins.

When the Archdemon turned away from them at Redcliffe, they immediately gave chase. They cut through the the horde waiting for them at the gates and marched to the capital but it was all in vain. The Archdemon summoned another horde from Amaranthine and laid waste to the city, killing its defenders, driving out its citizens until everything was destroyed.

Denerim was lit aflame, lighting the sky above it red with the smoke rising from its ashes while the sun hastened away in shame.

Thorin looked at their troops, saw their despair at seeing their capital and their homes destroyed and knew that they must be rallied to fight. He strode towards Alistair, and informed him that his army needs him. “A few words will be enough. You have to give them hope,” he advised. 

Alistair followed his gaze to his army and knew he was right. He should not flinch nor make excuses anymore. It was time to test his mettle and he vowed not to disappoint them.

He strode to the front of his army and called their attention. They were startled, surprised to hear a voice strong and steady in spite of the scene before them, and looked up to see determination in the face of their king. Alistair waited, silent until everyone’s attention was on him.

"Before us stands the might of the darkspawn horde,” he declared, his voice unwavering. “Gaze upon them now, but fear them not. Those standing with me are Grey Wardens.” He gestured to his side and the warden walked to him, and positioned themselves on either side of him. “They have survived, despite the odds, and without them, none of us would be here! Not all of them was born to Ferelden, but they fight with honor and passion and will not hesitate to put their lives for this country. Today, we save Denerim! Today, we avenge the death of my brother, King Cailan! But most of all, today we show the Grey Wardens that we remember and honor their sacrifice. For Ferelden! For the Grey Wardens!"

He bared his sword and raised it high, and the army followed him, raising their own and cheering. As they were cheered for them, Thorin turned to Amadeus beside him. “I’m surprised you would support Alistair,” he commented. “After all, I remember you don’t think much of him.”

Amadeus looked to where the new king was making a speech to bring heart to the army.  “Look at that,” he said and nodded at Alistair. “What do you see?”

The dwarf looked puzzled at him but did his best to answer. “A newly-minted king rallying the troops. Much better than I expected.”

“I’ll let this pass because of you being a dwarf and all.”

“Why? What do you see?”

“It is Calenhad all over again. They saw Calenhad in him and so they will fight to the very end even if they knew they might not live to see it. They may not live tomorrow, but they know their families will. Their countrymen will. They will fight because they know that victory is theirs." He looked over the army and onto the city, where the fires were still raging. "For a time like this, you need a Theirin, who had triumphed again and again in spite of impossible odds. Say what you will about them, but you cannot deny that they were blessed by destiny.”

“A sane man would rather be comforted with the sight of more troops than a sight of a legend.”

“Yes, but having more troops is useless when they are all cowards.”

Thorin shrugged. "Loghain might have done something about that.”

Amadeus shook his head. “I don’t think he can. By the way we destroyed his authority at the Landsmeet, no one will follow him now. No one would put their trust on someone who was a proven traitor. They would be busy looking over their shoulder, wondering if their neighbor would betray them, instead of looking ahead at their enemy. The stink of defeat from Ostagar and from the Landsmeet clung so closely to Loghain now that no one will put their confidence in him ever again.”

“Maybe he can't be a leader again but his advice would have been useful. After all, neither of us had much experience or knowledge at leading an army of this size.”

“You would trust him to advise you?”

“He swore an oath to the Wardens.”

“He swore fealty to a king and yet he betrayed him.”

“We can’t do anything about it now. The man’s dead.” Thorin looked at the king who had completely renewed the fight in his people. He mused that he was glad they had Alistair, for if it was up to him to rally the troops, he was not sure if he could persuade them to their deaths on things he did not believe in anymore. “Let’s wish that our luck holds.”

* * *

Elissa slyly glanced at Thorin, who was fiddling with a ring. She didn’t know how he was feeling right now, and wished to say something to comfort him but she knew that he would need to ask it of her first. To be abandoned by Morrigan at the eve of their death, gives a feeling that she could not imagine. She watched as he rolled it between his fingers, then, after a moment, put it on. She looked away before he can catch her looking at him.

Thorin looked up and called them for one last meeting.

“Alistair, you’ll stay here with the others and lead the defense of the city,” he instructed.

Alistair frowned at him. “But I’m the king, right?," he asked boldly. "And this is my country that is being destroyed and my people being killed. I should be up there with you to kill the Archdemon, not fight behind the barricades and wait while my army is dying around me.” 

“No one’s doubting your courage, Alistair,” he answered, noting how different he was from Cailan, “but your people need you alive than dead. Ferelden will not be fixed as soon as the Archdemon die. It will take years for people to rebuild and they will look for a king to lead them there. You need to survive this, Alistair. For them.”

Alistair understood, but he could not help expressing his disappointment. “Oh. Alright. But I wished...I could have stayed by your side longer,” he said, and with a look at Mahariel which she did not return, walked away.

Thorin turned to the companions who had traveled and fought with them until the end. “Everyone, it’s good knowing you. We are truly grateful for your help and the time you’ve spent with us will not be forgotten. You don’t have any obligation to continue to risk your lives to fight with us, but I ask you again, to do so one last time.”

“Of course we would fight with you,” Wynne said. The others nodded their agreement.

“Thank you.”

As the others said their goodbyes to their companions, Elissa went to Zevran and hugged him, which he returned with the same feeling as hers. She broke away and held his face with her hands. “Take care, Zevran. Whatever happens, please live through this.”

“Only if you promise me you’ll live and come back to me.”

 She looked sadly at him. “I’m sorry, but I can’t promise that. I hope you understand.”

“You won’t say it even to give me hope?”

“I’m sorry.”

He took her hands in his and resigned himself to this. “Then so be it. I promise to survive regardless of what happens to you. It seems it is my fate to love a beautiful but doomed Warden. It is cruel, but I have no regrets. The time I've spent with you will always be the best time of my life. ”

She looked at his stricken face and kissed him, hoping that it’s enough to make him hold on to his promise.

* * *

The army was spread out the line, ready to meet the horde which came pouring out the the gates. When they were near enough, Thorin gave the signal and the mages let loose their fireballs. Fire rained upon the darkspawn but still some struggled through, aflame and shrieking. Thorin raised his arm again and the archers fired, felling the survivors.

Despite the spells and arrows, the darkspawn kept coming until they came near the line. The warriors drew their weapons and Thorin signaled that the melee was on.

They drove back the darkspawn to the gates and fought through inside and into the market. They hunted down the creatures, entering houses to slay them, until the streets were lined with their blood and bodies.

“Secure the gates!” Thorin ordered when they have killed most of the darkspawn. Parties broke away to close the entrances into the market and the Dalish positioned themselves on the walls, shooting down at any they see.

Mahariel rode on a great black bear and corralled the darkspawn chasing her. She rolled off its back and shot the creatures as it chased the bear, thinking it a greater threat than the slender elf. When the last fell, she mounted the bear again and rode off in search of more prey.

They had successfully cleared the market and paused for a breath.

Thorin called for the leaders of each group: Arl Eamon, Kardol for the dwarves, Lanaya and Irving.“Alright, we’ve got the market and we took back control of the main gate,” Thorin said, panting. “We need to board it up so reinforcements cannot get in. We’ll take the city, section by section, by taking control of the gates. If you spot the Archdemon, report back to us.”

They nodded and headed out to tell their followers his instructions. They had not much time to rest, when one came running, screaming at the top of his lungs. “The Archdemon!” he screamed and pointed at the sky. the dark shape of their enemy was flying fast towards them. 

“All of you, get out of there!” Thorin shouted at the people in the field. “Take cover! Move!”

But the archdemon swooped low over them, and breathed fire on the field as it passed. Some of them were caught and they screamed in agony, flailing and stumbling; in vain hope to extinguish the flames over them. Their flesh melted from their bones, fusing with their armor as black smoke issued forth inside them. They reached out while their flesh fell off their arms as they stumbled; waiving in silent scream for help.

Amadeus and Wynne went out of cover and among them. They waved their staffs and immediately, the bodies around them started rising with magic surrounding them, knitting together flesh and bone and sinew. Once they were dead, and then they found themselves whole. They could not believe their eyes, which were working again, and they felt their faces to make sure.

As Amadeus and Wynne went around reviving the dead, Thorin looked out for the Archdemon and saw it was coming around again. “Amadeus! Wynne!” he called to them. "Get out of there!” Thorin shouted and pointed at the sky.

They did not wait and pulled those they can save to move. Just in time, for the Archdemon’s breath lapped at their heels as they sprinted to the nearest building. They took cover behind the pillars as its fire breath passed over them.

The Archdemon perched at one of the houses and roared. Thorin nodded at them and they proceeded to rush at it, a group of warriors holding a shield aloft with a mage at their center. The Archdemon saw them move towards it and shot at them with fireballs, but the mages drew their staff out and deflected it with their barriers.

They were halfway to it, and the Archdemon spouted flames again to their side. Thorin glanced at it and saw a wall of flames coming nearer.

“To your left!” he shouted, but too late. Some of them did not turn early enough and the flames passed over them. The groups broke apart, everyone screaming in pain, which the Archdemon ended fast with its fireballs.

As the Archdemon picked the others off, Riordan’s group reached the base of the house and entered. They reached the roof where the Archdemon was and sneaked behind it, then threw themselves into its back. Startled, the Archdemon beat at its wings and tried to shake them off, but some of them held on. So it spread its wings and flew into the air.

Riordan clung on even as the ground became farther and farther. He dodged as someone slipped off and tumbled down below, their screams long and loud until it ended abruptly. He swore but dug his daggers and climbed up, even as the Archdemon climbed into the sky, and held fast as it tumbled and twisted in the air. He reached its shoulders and then looked up.

The Archdemon was aiming to scratch its back on an arch, so he jumped, catching its wing with his daggers. The wing tore and the Archdemon screamed until the wing was ripped in half and Riordan found himself in the air.

He reached out with his other dagger, trying to bury it in its flank. It caught, ripping the scales, leaving a line as it passed, from the shoulder to flank to….empty air.

Those left below saw Riordan fall into the air, saw him flail in vain, until he met a roof and was seen no more.

But the Archedemon was also flailing, trying to keep itself aloft, but the rip in its wing was too wide and it plummeted, down, down down and onto the roof of Fort Drakon.

* * *

The fastest way to Fort Drakon was through the alienage. They left the rest of the forces to Alistair and fought their way to the alienage. They reached the gate and met elves who had hidden there when the darkspawn attacked. They told them to go to the market and proceeded to the other exit. At the other side, an ogre was trying to break down the gate, while hundred of darskpawn moved and writhed and tried to beat down the boards.

“Board it up! Board it up!” Thorin shouted as the gate groaned.

They pulled planks, poles, spare boards, anything and began shoring up the blockade. Then humans, dwarves and elves pressed their backs to the gate, before it completely breaks from the assault. 

“What do you see?” asked Thorin to the taller Tabris. The elf peeked between the boards, beyond the ogre pounding on it where another horde came through the bridge, joining its foul brethen milling before the gate.

“Genlock emissaries, two of them and hurlock generals.”

Thorin looked to Neria. She nodded and began weaving her spell.

The storm broke out at the side of the darkspawn, their shrieks barely even heard over the din of the howling gales and roaring thunder. The lesser darkspawn broke into flakes as the cold hit them, but the Ogre roared in pain and started frantically beating at the boards, until a fist came through it and an unlucky human caught it and he was dragged inside through the hole. 

“Move back! Ogre coming through!” Thorin shouted at them as the ogre beat the the last of the gate away in its effort to escape the storm. It stumbled forward, its limbs stiff with ice, and tried to raise its hand to sweep them away. The warriors swept their swords, smashing it to pieces. They waited for those who had escaped from the storm to finish them.

The emissaries shrieked in pain and tried to go near them, but Amadeus shot a spell at them and they keeled over, wailing as their magic was forcibly ripped out from them and they fell. When the storm stopped, the army plowed through the frozen horde, plunging their weapons into the struggling bodies to make sure nothing survived before moving on to the bridge. There they saw more darkspawn coming to them along with ogres. At Thorin’s signal, the knights locked their shields together before the bridge, forming a wall. But before they close it off, Neria finished her incantation and a storm broke over the bridge. The darkspawn pummeled the shields, trying to get through, but the knights held on and they found the frenzied beating became less and less. Their hands are frozen stiff and they said so to the wardens, so Amadeus shot a spell over, extinguishing the storm. They drew their weapons and charged over the bridge, sweeping swords on necks and knocking off the others into the abyss below unitl they reached the other end.

 “Hold this and don’t let anything get through,” Thorin instructed to Ser Perth and the knights. Then they and the dwarves went on to lay siege to the fort. 

* * *

They fought through the lower levels of the fort and emerged on the roof where they saw the Archdemon lying on its side. It turned its great head towards them and roared.

“Hold the entrances! Don’t let anything get through!” Thorin shouted to the dwarves. They nodded and guarded the openings, their backs toward them, axes out, waiting. They did not have long to wait, for the darkspawn emerged from the doors soon after. 

The wardens and the other dwarves turned to face the Archdemon.

“Thorin, look!” Amadeus pointed at the ballista, a relic of the dragon hunting days. The dwarf spared only one look at it before saying to Tabris “Go see if it works. Brosca, Neria, Mahariel, Amadeus with me on the Archdemon. Kardol, if you would?”

“I thought you’d never ask,” the Legionnaire commander replied, grinning.

Tabris and Elissa ran to the nearest ballista and looked at it. “It still works I think. It only needs something,” the elf said as he bent over and fixed some of its parts. He stood when he was done, aimed it at the Archdemon and fired. The bolt hit its flank, and it shrieked, turning to face him but the people hacking its feet prevented it from moving towards the machine. The beast roared and blasted them with fire but the mages cast their barriers, saving them from the blast.

Elissa ran to the nearest ballista, and fired it on the Archdemon. She kept on firing, as each bolt struck the archdemon and it brought down its revenge on the other Grey wardens, blasting them with fire, wounding them with lashing tail, and claw and teeth. She kept on it as it grabbed a dwarf between its great teeth and shook him like a rag doll, snapping the spine before throwing it to the ground. Lights surrounded the body and he stood up, shaking off death, before hurling himself again at the beast.

They tried to climb it to cut its neck, but it shook them off. It tried to fly but only buffeted them with its wings. All of them were thrown back on their feet. It blasted fire on them as they tried to get on their feet, and they heard screams as their allies turned to ash.

Brosca got up, groaning and saw the carnage. Bodies were strewn over the floor, smoking and black, some of them screaming and trying to beat the flames away. He saw Amadeus stagger as he moved among them, using the last of his mana to heal those who can still fight, not bothering reviving the dead. Mahariel was limping from one to the other, shoving potion down throats whose owners were too injured to do more than swallow. He saw the Archdemon turn towards where Tabris was firing the ballista, and moved, lunging. However, Thorin grabbed a sword and staggered toward its path and as it lunged overhead, the dwarf raised his weapon, the blade opening the underside of its neck. It shrieked, staggered to its side, blood spurting over from the great wound. The dwarf evaded the sweeping neck and plunged the blade into its heart. The beast only roared louder and tried to shake it off, with the dwarf holding on for dear life.

Brosca ran towards them, limping, his body screaming in agony as his bones pierced his flesh with every move. He ignored the pain and reached the other dwarf, putting his hands on the weapon atop the other’s hand and pushed it in.

It was not enough. The beast reared and they were going to be flung away. His strength was ebbing away and his hands were slipping from the handle.

“Hold on! We’re here!” A hand was over his, keeping his grip on the weapon. From his swollen eye, he saw Tabris at his side, his hands over them as they pushed it in.

The beast turned its head to snap them off its side but Mahariel picked a spear and stabbed at the monster and parried the claws. Elissa came running, climbed up and helped them. Amadeus joined them soon after, his mana spent and together they drove the sword deeper into its heart.  

Light flashed atop of Fort Drakon and a wave burst which knocked all of them to the ground. Then, as if in answer, the sun appeared and brought forth its light to a new day. 


	115. End

When the light burst and he felt himself falling into unconsciousness, the Warden remembered the events of the previous night and wondered if the witch had lied.

“Your rooms are that way. And if you’re looking for his room, it’s still that way.” Amadeus said and nodded toward the hallway. he stepped back and held the door open for her. However, the witch did not make a move to go and stood right where she is.

“Tis the right room I’m in,” she said.

Amadeus crossed his arms. “I’m assuming you had something to tell me?”

Morrigan paced around the room. “I have a plan, you see. A way out. A loophole.” She told them she knew why wardens are needed to kill the Archdemon. She knew a warden’s death is needed and explained that it isn’t necessary, as she knew a ritual. She told him about it and what it would cost.

Amadeus thought about this for a moment. “So why come to me? You do know I am in no great danger to get killed by the Archdemon. After all, I could just stand back and revive the others long enough for them to kill and get killed.”

“Surely you as well as I know the value of an Old God. That ancient source of knowledge and power, only to be lost forever from people who foolishly fear it. I seek the essence of the Old God that once was and not the dark forces that corrupted it. Some things are worth preserving in this world.”

“Don’t compare yourself to me. I know you’re only after yourself.” 

“And you are not? Tell me, who was the one who begged me for lessons on how to change forms and who humbled himself for a batty old woman, a woman he hates, just so she can teach him all she knew? Was that not you or do my eyes deceive me?”

“Your eyes are fine. It’s your intentions that are suspect. You had been planning this ever since your mother handed you to us.”

“You credit me with far too much plotting," she mocked. "Tell me why do I deserve such censure?”

“Because if you aren’t planning something, you would have begged Thorin. But since he’s not storming nor anyone else, I assume you came to me first.”

Morrigan recoiled from him. “I have approached you because I have thought you reasonable enough. I confess I was wrong.” She made a move to pass him when he said. “You weren’t wrong. You think the others would accept your offer? Tabris would be horrified to learn that another child gets sacrificed-”

“It’s not a child. It is only a vessel,” she said irritably.

“Call it as you wish, but to him, it is a child. His child. He would never accept it nor hear half of it before he’s out the door. Brosca had never been your friend and he wouldn’t now. Not ever. Same with Alistair. Thorin though….you know him well enough.”

“And what do I know of him?”

“Let me tell you about someone I know. Someone given a mission to fulfill. She was relatively sheltered from any social contact, and yet her mother sent her with strangers on dangerous quests. Why is that?”

“Perhaps because she wishes to explore the world.”

“During a Blight? Hardly. She was too selfish as to not save her skin. For you see, the man the woman attached herself to happens to be the leader of a group. He gives the orders and the others obey. He need only lift a finger and the others won’t touch her, no matter how repulsive she is.”

“Repulsive?”

“The others call her something worse. But in any case, she had him wrapped in her little finger.”

“And where does this sorry tale end?”

“I’ll get there, you’ll see,” he assured her and continued.  “She could have had anybody more suitable to her purpose, but being around power was something she had always wanted. She must be gratified to know that she could do her mission and still please herself.”

“Do babble on, for that is your only talent it seems.”

“She was right with her choice, for it seems the man would do anything for her, even recover her mother’s grimoire, the one she covets the most. Then she learned why her mother had kept her. She hoped, that deep down, in those twisted way of hers, that her mother cared for her.

“You are foolishly mistaken if you think she does this to get her mother’s love.”

“I said care. Not love. Brutality is much preferable to indifference.”

Amadeus stole a look at her. She only stared at him blankly so he took that as a signal to continue.

“But the Grimoire revealed that her mother had never really cared for her, and never will. She is only something to be used. A tool, to be used and discarded when it fulfilled its purpose. She was enraged at this betrayal, so she ordered her lover to kill her mother. It was a sort of test, to know if he would value her life over his. He did put her life above his. And continued to do so, even without her demanding for it.”

Morrigan was still giving no reaction except staring at him silently.

“There she knew that love never came at such a price, the price her mother required from her. And so she fell for the man who was only supposed to be a tool like she would have ended had it not been for him. But still, the mission remains. She would also have a chance to prove herself to him, by doing the same thing: offering to save him from something that will surely kill him. And there is the problem. For the man isn’t so easily made to bend to her will, him having a will of his own, and she loves him far too much to make him something else. She knew that if she told him about the saving grace, he would say he had never been afraid of dying and there is still something worth fighting for other than just living.”

"You seem to know very well what he would do.”

“He once gave a sappy speech to a dead man, giving hope where there was none. And no one here would have followed him to death, if he, by his own actions, had not made them to aspire to be better.”

“And did she became better, as you say?”

“Yes, because she is offering something to save him from death. For that’s what you came for, isn’t it?”

At last, Morrigan softened, her expression one with fondness and regret. “Caring for him as I’ve come to..That was not part of the plan,” she confessed. But this was only for a moment for she steeled herself for what she must do. “But I cannot let it interfere. This is important to me. The fact that it might save his life make me all the more determined to see it done.”

“And there I have it. But even so, I don’t see why I should care.”

She looked at him, appraising him coolly. “Then let me give you a reading of my own,” she offered and stepped closer. “You always desire to show off your intelligence,” she said, striding until she was in front of him, her face inches fromhis as she looked into his eyes. “And you…never liked  to lose.”

He was silent.

“That was quick.”

She turned her back to him and sat on the bed.

 “And so I never liked to lose?"  he chased after her. "Then tell me why should I let you be so powerful as to be a mother of a god?”

She looked at him with understanding and not enmity. “I am not your enemy,” she said simply.

He looked at her and knew she was right. She wasn’t the enemy, it was …whatever who saw fit to require that they should give everything up to save the world, while heaping fortune and happiness, everything that is good and beautiful, to those who perpetuate bigotry, cruelty and selfishness. Who saw fit to push them down into boxes and require from them selflessness, honesty and mercy, while at the same time rewarding the selfish, the liars, and the pitiless.  And if this wasn’t enough, a sacrifice is needed to satisfy their comfort. A sacrifice of one of their own.

He knew the consequences of the ritual. They would not need to die, but it meant the being they were trying to kill would still be alive, free to impose its power over the world. They would not need a sacrifice, but it meant risking a powerful being, an Old God, to rule over them, perhaps not immediately, but surely sometime in the future. Who knows what it would do? The mind of a god is beyond the comprehension of any mortal. Conversely, it would never comprehend the concerns of mortals nor care to, for they are alien to it, weak and prone to many things like illness and death. It would undoubtedly not work for their sake, instead preferring to satisfy  its own whims.

But then, why should he care about other people? Who, if he died tomorrow, would rejoice that there is one less mage in this world, a mage who did them the courtesy of dying without the assistance of a templar? They would call his death a blessing and they would deny his sacrifice of the honor it deserves and would be quickly forgotten, alongside his existence. 

And what of the others? The sacrifice might be honored today, but these people will ensure that history will not remember those who are not human or mundane. The narrative of the world will be dictated by those who survived, and they will always choose those that serve them best. They will always choose to further their own vision, without regard to fairness or truth.

What is his duty to the people who would not lift a finger should the Chantry declare his life forfeit? He owes them nothing.

“What do you need me to do?” he asked, closing the door.

* * *

Morrigan wasn’t lying.

Amadeus opened his eyes and sat up. He squinted at the light of the rising sun and looked around. His companions lay unconcious all round the Archdemon’s body and beyond them, their allies and their enemies' bodies. It seems that burst of light knocked them away but as far as he could tell, the wardens were all alive. He picked himself up gingerly, as pins traveled up and down his limbs, and went to wake up the dwarf. It took a long time but eventually, the dwarf sat up. Thorin needed a moment to remember and then he asked him what happened.

"You were dead. I managed to find a way for you to survive, by catching your soul before it escapes and put it back to your body," Amadeus answered, feeling that the honor should be his since it was because of him that the offer was made. The dwarf nodded and did not question him too much, as he was still groggy to think about the particulars which might involve some magic explanation. Amadeus left him to himself, feeling just as unwilling to discuss their survival as him and instead focused on waking up the others, who reacted the same as Thorin. 

As the world brightened around them with the wind gently blowing, carrying to them the birds chirping of the new day, they looked at each other, convincing themselves that they are alive and so was all their companions.

“We’re alive,” Tabris said, his words hollow of emotion, staring at the clear sky with blue unending. Then Elissa burst out crying. Neria came to her side. “Don’t cry. I don’t want to see you sad.”

Elissa made a choking sound but suddenly, she reached out and hugged her. “I’m not crying because I’m sad. I’m crying because I’m so happy.”

Tabris smiled as he looked at them both. Elissa held out her arm to him and he accepted, hugging them. He broke away only to pull the others towards them. Brosca limped towards them and engulfed them with his arms.

Thorin came limping toward them, and put a hand on their shoulder. “You crazy kids,” he said, his eyes tearing up.

* * *

With the Archdemon dead, the darkspawn scattered and fled into the Deep roads. But the Blight has ended and Ferelden was free once more. The next week was dedicated to clearing Denerim of the rubble and bodies and driving the stragglers out and back to the holes they came from. They had not wholly driven the darkspawn out of the lands, but at least most of the towns were cleared of them. Even as they mourned for those who fell in the last battle, still they had reason to hope and be joyful.  They had lost much, and there were still many things to be done, but the people thought that those who had saved them should be given their gratitude.

Soon the palace was prepared, a wedding was called. Beneath the colorful banners and the happy faces of their people around them, Alistair was wed to Anora. Then they were crowned as the new rulers of Ferelden. Their people cheered, their faith restored, as they gaze at the couple who would bring forth a new prosperous age. But even with the wedding celebrations, the Wardens were not forgotten. Their new king called for their attention, to honor the ones who had saved them from the Blight. 

“I present to you, the Heroes of Ferelden” King Alistair declared to the assembly at Denerim. The hall rang with with cheers as the Grey Wardens walked to the dais, where the King awaited. They were decked out in the finest armors, made of Archdemon scale and bone. 

They stood in front of the King and with his leave, turned around to face the crowd and bowed. This caused a renewed cheering among the people.

King Alistair raised his hand to calm them and spoke again. “But I had not forgotten also our allies, who, if not for their help, we would not be here today. I present to you, The Circle of Magi, the Dalish and Orzammar.”

The people cheered as each representative of those groups, First Enchanter Irving for the mages, Lanaya for the Dalish and Kardol for Orzammar, took their place beside the Wardens.

“For their help in stopping the Blight, I wish to give them a boon,” Alistair said. He turned to First Enchanter Irving. “To the Circle of Magi, I offer independence from Chantry rule, should you choose to accept it.”

Irving was surprised. He did not expect that the new king would be so generous as to offer them a boon. But the greatness of the boon made him forget all else, even of Gregoire’s hard stare at him, as he thought of a place where mages were taught not to hate themselves and fear their power. He always thought that the templars were too heavy handed in their treatment of mages, which had only resulted in despair, self-loathing, and bitterness. It had not made lives better, for mages or the mundane, but had only withold the good that magic can give. For they had forgotten that magic is the Maker’s gift. Magic has the potential to bring beauty, happiness and good into this world, as much as any art or talent. But this only springs from a heart filled with love, happiness and desire to do good.

He did not believe in the Chantry view that magic will be always used to evil ends and must be controlled, if not crushed, at all costs. Nor did he approve of Tevinter’s view that magic is a tool of power, and only a fool would use it for any other purpose. He believed in the middle way, that magic tempered with a sense of responsibility would ensure the good fruits of magic, while preserving the freedom of the holder as any being have the right to just by being born.

“I accept, Your Majesty. Thank you,” Irving said, gratitude overcoming his eloquence. Then a figure stepped out from the Warden’s group and barreled into the king. The crowd gasped, shocked, that someone would dare put her arms around their sovereign. The king however, was only surprised and did not turn her away, and instead returned the hug.

“So does this mean we’re friends now?” Alistair teased Neria.

She did not answer and only held onto him tighter so he smiled and patted her head. “Wow. I’ve never expected this really," he said, "I never thought we could be friends. We’ve been in each other’s hair before and I never thought-Ow! You little-”

Neria had kicked his shin and had scurried away to Elissa’s side as the crowd gasped at her.

“I got your shin!”

Thorin hid his face under his palm. The king, after a moment of hopping on one foot, stopped after he realized how ridiculous he looks. He stood and started to laugh and the whole court laughed with him, like the sycophants they are. It’s good the king had a sense of humor, because his queen was absolutely livid.

“Now where was I?" he asked when the laughter subsided. "Ah, yes. The Dalish.” He called for Lanaya and she came to stand before him, proud in bearing.

“For your help during the Blight, I give you the Hinterlands to live in, where humans will not be allowed to enter without your permission. The lands south of the Korcari Wilds shall forever be yours." As she expressed her gratitude, he added, "For the Dalish.” Her thanks were very gracious but his eyes were not for her but for the Dalish Warden. She stood silently, her face showing no emotion, and only when he looked away and continued addressing the people did she allow herself to bow her head and let a single tear fall.

Alistair called for Kardol and he stood proud and tall for a dwarf. “For the valiant dwarves of Orzammar, you have Ferelden’s everlasting friendship. Our strength in arms is yours should you ever need it. Call for us and we will answer.”

Kardol thanked him loudly, caught his hand and shook it hard. Alistair tried his best not to wince when he had his hand back.

“And of course, for our heroes," he said, turning to the Wardens. "For your bravery and determination, I wish to give you Amaranthine as your own. It shall forever be the bastion of Wardens in the South, and a bane to the darkspawn.”

Thorin bowed and thanked him on behalf of the Wardens.

“Now that all honors are given, let the celebration begin.”

As the others broke away to mingle with the crowd, Thorin stayed where he was and talked with Alistair. “How are you doing as king, so far?” Thorin asked him.

“It’s fun, telling people what to do and they obey you at once,” Alistair replied gaily. “Even the ridiculous orders. I once asked for a bust made of cheese and they actually made one! Now before you say that now that I am king, I should be more serious, I tell you Wynne told me that first. I was only joking about the cheese and I promise you those are few and far in between.”

Thorin smiled. “Actually, I’m glad to know you’re having fun with your subjects.”

“Really? You’re the first one who told me that. Everyone else tells me the opposite.”

 “That’s because they didn’t know you wouldn’t last five minutes without cracking up. That’s just not your way. I think a king doesn’t need to be always serious if he isn’t one. He should be able to enjoy himself or else ruling would be a tedious duty.”

Alistair stared at him in mock surprise. “Am I dreaming? You’re actually saying I should be myself? Funny and all and not having to worry about it making me a bad king?”

“I don’t think you would be a bad king. You kept being funny during the Blight and yet it has not stopped you from doing your duty. I don’t think it would stop you from doing what’s right now that you’re king.”

“Thank you,” Alistair said and made a sigh of relief. “I was dreading you’ll be angry with what I did with the Orlesian Wardens." he lowered his voice and whispered, "They came you know, to get Riordan’s body to Weisshaupt and ask how none of you died with the Archdemon.”

“What did you do?” the dwarf asked, suddenly alert.

“I gave them my special distraction technique. Also, drank them under the table. It took everything from Ogrhen’s stock but I think I can repay it.”

Thorin chuckled. "So that’s why I don’t see them anywhere.”

“I thought you and the others wouldn’t want them to know.”

“You thought right. I don’t think Amadeus would appreciate them knowing that he managed to revive me after the Archdemon died.” After the battle, Amadeus gave him a detailed explanation of how he managed to save him from being destroyed along with the Archdemon by asking for help from his Fade...friends. That would explain his reticence in discussing their survival but it also meant that letting it be known would have made the Chantry pay more attention to him since their deal released Amadeus from the order along with their protection. Letting the other Wardens hound him for information was to him an act of bad faith.

Alistair nodded, having nothing more to say, then by inclination turned away towards the one where he truly wanted to be with but can never be.

"Andaran atish'an, da'len," Ashalle greeted Mahariel and hugged her. She cupped her face and smiled. "It is so wonderful to see you again, healthy and whole."

“Same as I, Mamae. I am so happy to have you here with me,” Mahariel replied, taking hold of her hands and held them, comforted by their warmth.  "Did the rest of the clan come with you?"

"I fear they were too afraid to come into such a great city. It is so different from what we are used to. I find myself constantly bewildered," she said, chuckling nervously.  "They send their well wishes with me. The keeper was especially proud at the word of your victory. She said she cannot wait to tell the other clans."

“Lanaya and her clan had helped.”

“Ah, yes. I should remember to thank them too. But this thing you have done, land to settle, I-I cannot express what this means to the clans,” she said, tearing up. “Imagine the look on the keeper's face when she learns of this. Will you come with me to tell her?"

"Of course."

"Wonderful. You will see the joy this will bring. It will be a day to remember for a very long time. I-I could build a house. On land that is my own, forever.” Mahariel smiled as Ashalle’s face beamed with happiness at the dream they had always wished for. “Is that not the strangest thought?"

“Yes. If it was built, I shall look forward to visiting you,” she said, happy to know that her mother would be right by. And she had him to thank.

She looked behind her but he was talking with the First Enchanter, with Neria beside him.

"It is very strange to hear so many speak of mages in such glowing terms," Irving said. "Deserved, of course, but still not what I am accustomed to. I must thank you, however, for freeing the Circle from our shackles. That was most unexpected, indeed.”

"I did what I thought was right," Alistair answered and smiled at Neria beside him. Neria smiled back.

"Most would not have given a thought to our contributions. Thank you. This is a gift we will not abuse. Now, I should leave you to your celebration. Uldred's revolt has left me..." He sighed. "Very quick to tire these days. Retirement will come soon, I think."

He reached out and patted Neria’s head who for once did not snarl at him. "I look forward to seeing what you accomplish next."

Wynne came near them to give her well-wishes. Irving, still happy from the boon, greeted her and asked, “How about it, Enchanter Wynne? Should we go back to Kinloch Hold and start a new era for mages?”

“Please excuse me, Irving but I cannot go with you,” she said coldly. “I shall go with Knight Commander Gregoire to give a report to the Grand Enchanter and the Knight Divine about the mages involvement in the Blight.” She wanted nothing to do with Irving's plan of independence from the Chantry. She knew that this act of sedition would not pass unnoticed and she had to escape now and declare precisely where she stood.

“You’re leaving?” Alistair asked with a frown. “But…where would you go next?”

“Wherever they assign me.”

Alistair rubbed his forehead. “You know, it happens I need a court mage. And I would like my favorite mage ever with me a little longer. Will you take a position in my court as a court mage? Please?” he asked, making his eyes puppy-like as he pleaded.

Wynne chuckled at his ploy and could not find it in herself to turn it down. “Of course, my dear. Whenever you need me.”

Thorin broke away from Alistair’s circle and approached Brosca. He was talking with some dwarf, and when he saw him approach them, he paled a little, and gestured frantically at the man.  
“Am  interrupting something?” Thorin asked.

“No..uh, this guy was just tellin me bout me mother and sister.” The guy rolled his eyes at being called so and left them to talk in private.

“They are well I hope?”

Brosca gave him an odd stare. “Aye, they’re alright,” he answered awkwardly.  He nodded and made to go away, when Brosca pulled him closer and whispered. “Listen, uh, your brother…”

“Yes? Tell me what has he done now.”

“He’s givin us permission to go back to Orzammar. Because..he’s plannin to make us both Paragons.”

Thorin looked at him in surprise and kept silent. He did not want to deal with his brother now and everything he represented. “I don’t know about you, but I’ll think about it,” he answered after a while.

Brosca shrugged his shoulders. “Sure. Amma wait for ye to make up yer mind then.”

“Brosca…that is not necessary. Go if you want.”

“Nugshit. I ain’t goin without ye, Boss.”

He had said Boss with affection, not unlike the past where he spat it out like poison. Thorin dropped his eyes, smiling a little. “Thank you.”

“What do we have here?” Oghren asked loudly as he approached behind them. He put his arms around them, a mug on each hand. “A dwarf party? Sign me up,” he said and grinned.

“Drunk again, Oghren?” Thorin teased him.

“Drunk again, Oghren?” he mimicked. “You sound like my father. But yes, you’re right.” He took a big gulp on the mug nearest him. He wiped his mouth and burped. "Humans have a better taste for spirits than I thought. Heh. The ale up here is actually good. Orzammar ale tastes like dirt in comparison. Probably because they put dirt in it. Go figure."

"Gonna go back to Orzammar?" Brosca asked.

Oghren looked at the ceiling and waived at it with his empty mug. "I'm getting used to that big sky up there. And I'm thinking I might just look up Felsi again... see where that goes," he said, with a grin and a wink at them.

"You're done adventuring?"

"Maybe for a bit. Talk to me in a year or so when I'm bored, maybe I'll think differently. Ah well, enough babbling. That pot-bellied son of a whore Teagan said I'd pass out before drinking an entire barrel of pickle juice. I aim to prove him wrong."

“Mighta join you.”

“Sure,” Oghren laughed then snorted. He looked at them both and shook his arms along with them. "It's been good traveling with you, Wardens. Don't get lost in the shuffle, now."

Thorin chuckled and removed himself under his arm. He turned around and found Sten looking at the crowd silently, with a black dog at his heels. He didn’t care much for pets, but he knew Fereldens rate dogs highly and this one might be some noble’s dog, so he bent down and petted it. It whined under his hand and playfully nipped his fingers, looking at him with bright yellow eyes that was strangely familiar. He stood up, looking puzzled at it, but he remembered he did not come for the dog. He turned to the giant beside it.

"It's good to see you again," Sten said quietly and resumed looking at the crowd. "These people...they call you 'hero'. It's a strange word, but I think I understand it's meaning. The arishok on occasion has declared a qunari to be qunoran vehl, one who serves as an example to others. Such examples are always made after their death, however. A death in service to the Qun. A living qunoran vehl would be too proud."

He smirked when he said Qunari don’t even praise their heroes when they’re alive. So stoic, these people. "Do the qunari celebrate and put on parades?"

"When a qunoran vehl is declared, certainly. It is one of the few occasions when the qunari are permitted to engage in...revelry,” he said, his frown deepening.  “There is imbibing of spirits, public chanting, meditations abandoned-it is madness."

 Thorin imagined these giants drunk and dancing. "That would be quite a sight," he said, smiling at the thought. 

"It is interesting,” Sten conceded. “It can take days for the Ben-Hassrath to restore order. There may even be executions."

He smirked at their dedication and changed the subject. “Will you be staying here?”

"No. I have decided to return to my people. Your quest is done, and thus so is my reason for accompanying you."

“I am grateful for your help. Would we be seeing you again?”

“Perhaps. If the Arishok decides that this country needs the wisdom of the Qun. Then we shall be at the opposite sides of the battlefield. When it comes, I shall not look for you.” When Thorin narrowed his eyes at him, he added, “But it is more probable that it will not come to pass in our lifetime.”

“Don’t let Alistair hear you say that.”

“Yes. So excuse me for I shall go look for the cake they promised will be present.”

Thorin gave him a pitying look. “I hate to break it to you but…the cake is a lie.”

Mahariel had finished talking with Lanaya and approached the red-haired elf woman. The woman saw her and smiled. “You’re the…the Dalish girl, yeah?”

“Andaran, Atish’an. My name is Mahariel.”

She giggled. “My name is Shianni too. Andaran…whatever.”

Mahariel joined her in her mirth and asked how she was taking this celebration. “Oh, great. I mean the shems aren’t looking disgusted with us anymore. They didn’t make one sniff yet as I passed! Maybe I should try farting?” she said and laughed. She sobered up after a while. “Anyway, I’m sad that Tabris could not come. I was expecting to meet him again and tell him that the shem king is making Valendrian a bann. Imagine, an elf noble! But I guess he needed to go immediately right? I’m babbling again. Valendrian’s not well still, but if he had come, I imagine he would be back to his bed again. But…I don't know if having a bann will change anything."

Mahariel took her hand which startled the girl. “It will. For they have you. It is good for us to have more elven heroes. Perhaps in time, with a new human on the throne, things will change for us. I can only hope it will be so."

Shianni gripped her hand tightly and smiled. “Yes, it will be. I’ll make sure of it.”

Meanwhile, Elissa was recieving the well-wishes of the nobles she knew from childhood with Zevran on her side. She did not hear Zevran whisper to her until she felt tapping on her shoulder. She turned around and found herself face to face with Fergus.

“Sister!” Fergus said, hugging her and lifting her off the floor. She cried his name as he held her.

They broke apart and Fergus cupped her face. “I never thought we’d meet again.”

“Me either.”

Fergus told her why he had waited until now to appear. He had been ambushed by Loghain on his way to Ostagar and lay wounded for some time, until a tribe of Chasind found him. They took him in and healed him, even as he remained unconcious for months. When he awoke, he found out that Highever was sacked and his family slaughtered which had brought on another brain fever. He only recovered when the battle of Denerim happened and he heard that his sister was with the Wardens.

“When I heard that my little sister is not only a Grey Warden but leading the forces against the Blight, I was surprised, to put it mildly. Father and Mother-,” he stopped, a spasm on his face at the memory of their parents, “-they would have been proud. I know I would.”

“Yes. I made Howe pay for what he had done.”

“I wished I’ve been there with you. But at least Amaranthine was given over to the Wardens and we Couslands are restored to Highever.” They fell silent at the mention of home. “I’m going back there to fix what Howe destroyed. It won’t be the same again, but still-will you come with me?”

She thought of all the ghosts of the castle. All the memories, and the people who have died.  “Yes. In time. But before we go, I’d like you to meet someone,” she said, stepping back and introducing Zevran to her brother.

* * *

As the celebrations went on in the hall below them, Amadeus sat alone in his own room. His bag was beside him, containing all his things and everything he might need in his journey ahead. The bed was made, the lamp out, the light from the fading sun bathing the room in light and darkness. As the sounds from the celebrations filtered in, he remembered the final conversation he had with Thorin.

“Are you sure you want to leave?” the dwarf had asked him as he packed his things. Thorin wanted them both to stay for the celebrations but Tabris wanted to be gone as soon as possible and he had nothing and no one to care for staying longer. 

“I have never changed my mind about this." He stopped packing and turned to face the dwarf fully. He felt at peace, for once in a long while and it showed in the calmness of his face and voice as he reminisced about his past.  "I once promised to a friend that we will get out of the tower. We thought, if we were good enough, the Chantry would allow us to go out, where we planned to be traveling as much as we can as they allowed us. Maybe go to the Storm Coast and see the ocean and feel the spray on our face. Or wander in the forest of the Emerald Graves, where the trees grow as tall as mountains. And climb the snow-covered mountains of the Frostbacks, going up and up until we feel like touching the sky." The light on his face went out and he said abruptly, "He’s dead now.”

“I’m sorry. How did he die?”

“The Templars thought him too weak to live. But still, no one should ever say that I cannot keep a promise.”

Thorin accepted that they would not be able to keep him. “If you are really determined, then I can do nothing else. I wish you luck. Go and be happy. But please know, that you will always be welcome here. You will always have a home here.”

* * *

At the other room, Tabris had not been at the party honoring them because he was busy packing his things for his trip to Tevinter.

Neria and Brosca burst into his room. They had slipped out of the party so they could talk to him before he left.  “We’re coming with you,” Neria said, panting.

“What did Thorin say? Does he know about this?”

They looked at each other then at him. “He ain’t said nothin because we said nothin to him,” Brosca explained.

Tabris rubbed his head and bit his lip. He wanted them to go too, but he could not ignore that the others need them more. Even if they had won, most of their troops had come down with Blight sickness and they have been working overtime to create enough potions to Join them. The darkspawn are still roaming the countryside and he could not expect just four of them to manage it. “I appreciate the gesture but, look, the Blight-it’s not over yet. People still need you and I can’t just take you away. Enough people have already died for me and I won’t let more people die on my conscience.”

Neria frowned at him. “But…we wanna go.”

Tabris smiled sadly. He walked forward to her, bent down and kissed her in the forehead. “I’m glad that you thought of me. But I want you to help people here. Can you do that for me?”

Neria looked conflicted but she nodded. He turned to Brosca and saw that he understood. The dwarf  took his hand and shook it. “Aye. Be safe out there, you stupid elf.”

They went away and he was about to resume packing when he sensed someone into the room with him and turned to find Mahariel standing in the doorway. “Oh, it’s you,” he said, holding a folded halfway to his bag. “You should let people know you’re in their room..maybe by knocking first?”

“Ir Abelas. I’m sorry. We do not have doors in the cla-”she stopped, seeing his mouth thin as she mentioned her Dalishness again. “I meant, I am not used to the ways of this place.”

He sighed and put the shirt in. “Is there something else you wanted to talk to me about?”

“I wish to ask you if I can help.”

He looked at her suspiciously, unable to tell whether she was patronizing again. She looked at him not with pride, but with sympathy. "Why? Why would you help now? You told me before, we flat ears were just some wannabe humans right? And you hate humans-well, not blond handsome ones, but you get my point. Why would you wish to help me now?”

He regretted mentioning the blond handsome human because she looked pained when he said it. But she was not angry and continued to talk to him with civility. “I was wrong when I said that. Forgive me. It was not kind of me.”

She explained that ever since she talked with Shianni, with Valendrian, with other city elves and heard their stories, she knew that she had been wrong. That being Dalish is not the only way for one to be an elf. That their ways too are worthy of emulation and preservation.

Mahariel had changed her perspective of them ever since she saw the vhenadahl in the alienage. The tree was a startling contrast to the city, its green leaves and sturdy trunk jarred with the drab walls, murky puddles and sickly looking huts around it. Its trunk was painted with cheery colors, vibrant red, sky blue, saccharine yellow, pure white and minty green, the only bursts of color in that hopeless place. And it made her think that she was very wrong when she said Tabris and the other city elves had no culture. For, even when they had lost more than the Dalish, still, they had made something of their subjugation. She now saw, that instead of looking towards the past, they had looked to the present as they build their own history. It wasn’t resignation either, for the tree stood as a testament that, whatever suffering they are under, they had never given up to despair. That no matter how hard the humans made them suffer, they rise up, for the spirit present in all elves will never be stamped out. 

Tabris was not malicious enough to continue hating her and so forgave her, saying that their quarrel was best forgotten. She nodded and reiterated her offer of help.

“Thorin would need all of you. There’s a lot of things to be done.”

She nodded, and asked the Creators to bless him. She was about to go away when he called her back. “Actually, I want to ask something.”

She waited for him silently.

“Can I trust you with Shianni and the others? There’s no one else I can trust to look out for them. I don’t want them to suffer again when I’m…gone.”

She nodded and said, “Do not worry, lethalin. I will take care of them in your stead.” She went and met Leliana on the way out.

She entered the room, fingering nervously a letter. He did not greet her and just continued packing his things, leaving her standing there awkwardly. “I heard you will be leaving soon,” she said.

Tabris nodded, putting his daggers in their sheaths. and putting them away.

“Take me with you.”

Tabris looked up at her and saw the pleading look in her eyes. His gaze fell on the paper she was holding. “What’s that?”

She looked at it, as if she had forgotten about it, then turned back to him. "It was a letter from Val Royeaux. Do you remember Mother Dorothea? The one I told you about who helped me when Marjolaine betrayed me?”

He nodded.

“She was being considered as a candidate for the Sunburst Throne, in preparation for the eventual…demise of the Divine. But her nomination also made her a target for plots. She has asked me for my help. I owe a lot to her and I wanted to go but now…”she trailed off, twisting the paper in her hand, “Saving your father is more important.”

Tabris fell silent. “It seems we both have someone we need to save,” he said softly. “Leliana, I don’t mind if you go to her. She needs you badly or she wouldn’t write about it.”

“But-what about you and your father?”

“We'll be fine. I'm going to save him and bring him home." She was about to insist on helping so he said, "And honestly, I don’t want to deal with us right now.”

She blinked at him. “What?” she croaked.

“I need some time to think about us.”

She stared at him, shocked, hurt…and angry. “After all I have done for you, you would do…this?”

“Did you help us because of me or because you wanted to?”

“I…”She looked down, struggling to find the words to say. She did, and she looked at him with anger. “It was not for you. But I loved you truly and everything I had done after was for you. But it seems...that you don't feel the same.”

He did not want to argue. He was done caring. When she swept out of the room, he did not call her back.

He resumed packing but it was harder than before. His limbs seem to have forgotten the movements and they moved with jerks and starts.

“You’re not going to finish moving like that.”

His head jerked to the side to find Amadeus leaning on the doorframe. “Is there something you want to ask or are you just going to stand there criticizing everything?” he asked irritably.

“Neither. Because see, I’m also going to Tevinter and I thought to offer you my company.”

Tabris looked at him, confused. He doesn’t understand Amadeus entirely but they quarreled enough to know that they were not friends. And they have traveled together long enough to know he wasn't a pleasant companion. “Why?”

“I have business there,” the mage answered idly.

“Did Thorin send you?”

“No. We had talked in the past that as soon as the Blight is over, I could go wherever I want. It just happens I wished to go to Tevinter and I think it is better that I come with you than let you travel there alone.”

He was growing more irritated with him, acting like he was the one doing the favor, not the other way around. "Who asked you?”

“I invited myself.”

"Well, I didn't ask you and never will." He resumed packing. “Sorry but no thanks.” He has a long trip ahead of him and he didn’t want to spend it with someone as grumpy as Amadeus.

“Festis bese umo cana varum.”

“I’m sorry?”

Amadeus stared at him, letting his ignorance in the language of the country he was going to sink in a little deeper. “You’d be dead as soon as you enter Tevinter,” Amadeus said finally and stood up straight. "How can you find your father without knowing Tevene? Do you think a lone elf wandering around would be safe in a land notorious for enslaving elves?” he scolded.

Tabris scowled at him but he could not retort, for he knew he was right.

“You have no plan, no money and no idea how to get your father back. Do you expect to succeed with that naivete?”

“What do you propose then?” he asked sullenly.

“It would be better if I accompany you. They would not suspect you if you are in a company of a mage. We can find your father faster if there are two of us working together.”

Tabris considered it. He made some sense. A mage would be far more welcome in Tevinter than an elf like him. But is it enough reason to suffer under his abominable company?

“If you die there, don’t blame me,” he said, relenting.

Amadeus smirked. “There is no need for that. I care for my life and I won’t wish for it to be wasted so easily.”

 


	116. Epilogue

The story of the Fifth Blight had come to a close. And with it, some were restored to their rightful place and some had been given their just rewards. And so the world goes on, as indifferent as usual to everyone living in it, whether they be poor or rich, wicked or good. Life goes on, into the future still unknown.

But what of its saviors? After their involvement, fate had left them alone, looking for others to be proved worthy of being included in history and they were content with that. For they were left to cope in a world that was saved but was forever changed:

As he accepted the well-wishes of the people around him, Thorin found a moment to looked at the ring, the ring the witch gave him in exchange for his heart. He had learned to live without a lot of things, and even if the ring told him that she no longer felt regret, still he kept it, not in despair of what he had lost, but in fond remembrance of what he was given. For even though it was lost, does not mean it was worthless.

Upstairs, Tabris was packing his things, sorting what was important, what was necessary and what should be left behind. The place he was going to will need all of him and he could not take what would only be needless baggage on the road. For he was not only going to save his father; he was going to save himself. He just didn’t know it yet.

Amadeus watched him pack. He had lost what was important, and still importance remains.   He thought he lost the will to go on, but he had not. There were other things to fight for, he just had been blind to it. And he will not give it up, now that he found it. He lost so much and he knew he couldn’t lose more.

In the other room, Brosca sharpened his sword. He had lost his family but he had found a new one, and that he had finally proved to himself that he was worthy of them. And he would do everything he can to keep them.

Beside him, Neria sat staring out the window, beset with thoughts. These thoughts were of satisfaction that she had finally proven her value and she had finally found people who love her despite what she is, but was it worth it? She sat, with a creeping knowledge that somewhere, someday, a child like her will be sitting at a window, beset by demons.

Elisa had broken away from the party to watch the sunrise at the roof with her lover beside her. They did not speak, and as they watched, she looked back to the events of her life. She knew then that the world appeared bright only to blind her to the darkness within. This darkness she had endured, and she knew that after night falls, the dawn comes. And the dawn will lead to dusk, then dusk will lead to day. And so on and on, until the world ends.  Whatever joy may come and whatever sorrow may arrive, all of this shall pass. She sat serenely, content with that knowledge, because she has learned to live in light and shadow.

Mahariel had gone out from the hall to the alienage. She found the streets quiet, as everyone had gone to the palace and there was nothing to disturb her as she stood before the Vhenadahl and remembered. The keeper’s words were true; her path was hard and full of grief and it winded through  love and loss. But all of it, all she had endured had led her to this: her true purpose. Her people had been scattered, by swords and malice and mistrust. The Dalish had the knowledge of the past, and the city elves the knowledge of the present. They cannot move forward to their future when both are sundered from each other. Someone must go and bring them together. Someone must connect their knowledge and build the bridge towards their future.

That someone will be her. She knew and she will not waver. She will go on, onward to their future, whatever it may bring. 

Vir Assan.


End file.
